


Keep It

by AmazinglyMediocre



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Has Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Diana and Clark are bffs, F/M, Minor Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Slow Burn, but diana's there, i can't stop beating him up, lowkey bruce whump, minor spoilers but like nothing horrible i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazinglyMediocre/pseuds/AmazinglyMediocre
Summary: It's all too easy to forget that Bruce is only human.





	1. Chapter 1

It was easy to forget that Bruce was human. He was incredibly strong and smart for a man, as well as composed and skilled. As the Batman, he blended in with the rest of the Justice League. Sheer experience allowed him to tackle any situation just as well as the rest of them.

            But he was only a man. Diana was always brutally reminded of it after a long night when he would return to the mansion battered and exhausted to the point that he would pass out on the couch still wearing his suit. His ribs would be black and blue, the deep bruises running underneath scars and mingling with older, yellowed bruises. In the end, she knew they would all outlive him. It wasn’t a pretty thought, but it was reality.

            Much of this was kept between the two of them and occasionally Clark; Bruce refused to let any of the other members know. He claimed it was to keep morale up, but she knew it was because he was too shy and secretive to let any of them know he was struggling.

            That night was an especially bad one. Bruce’s shoulder had never been the same since his scuffle with Clark after his resurrection, and it showed after the bad nights.

            She knew it when he appeared in her doorway, looking ages older than he should. His cowl was still in his hand and he was dripping wet.

            “Diana,” he mumbled.

            She took one look at him and immediately patted her bed. “Sit,” she ordered as she stood up and pulled her first aid kit out of her nightstand. He complied, silently sitting down and waiting for her. She would deal with her soaked comforter later.

            “How bad is it?” She set the kit down next to him and opened it.

            “It’s out,” his left arm was limp at his side, his shoulder sitting at an odd angle.

            “You can’t keep doing this,” Diana pulled out an ice pack and shook it. The pack quickly grew cold and she handed it to him, forcing him to drop his cowl on the floor. “This is destroying you, Bruce.”

            “I don’t want to hear it,” he pressed the ice pack to his jaw and closed his eyes. There was warning in his voice. “I know what it’s doing to me, but someone has to do it.” His lips sounded numb, gently slurring his words. “Just fix it.”

            She grit her teeth and took his shoulder in her hands. “Find someone else, then.” His shoulder snapped as she pushed it back into place, earning a sharp breath from him.

            “Stop talking about it,” he kicked his cowl away and moved the ice pack to his shoulder. His face was dark.

            “You need to get out of the rest of this,” she tugged at the collar of his suit, squeezing water out of it. “I’m not letting you fall asleep in it again, especially not when it’s this wet. How did this happen?”

            “I fell in the harbor,” he shook a few droplets of water out of his hair.

            “Take it off,” she pushed his hair out of his face.

            Bruce averted his gaze. “I can’t.” He sounded ashamed of himself. She sat down behind him on the bed. She knew he would hide his face from her either way. He was quiet for a long moment. “You’ll—you’ll have to rip it. The fabric is knife-proofed, so it won’t cut off,” he finally spoke again.

            Diana ripped the top as gently as she could, starting at the back of his neck and working her way down. Down past the bulk of his upper back and the flatter planes of his lower back. His spine cut a deep indent through the corded muscle.

            The last seam of his shirt gave way with a pop. She worked her hands underneath the shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders. He silently tugged the sleeves off and let out a long breath as the shirt joined his cowl on the floor.

            “You need to warm up,” she offered him a hand. He took it and slowly rose to his feet. “Go take a shower,” she pointed at her bathroom. And, for once, Bruce followed directions.

            She waited until he started the water to leave.

            Diana padded down the hallway and down the grand spiral staircase that filled the foyer of the mansion, past massive windows and regal paintings of Waynes past.

            “Kal-El,” she spoke loud enough for him to hear, but not for Bruce to hear.

            She was pulling a sweatshirt out of Bruce’s dresser when he appeared, touching down soundlessly on the open balcony. Diana opened the door and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

            “What do you need?” His hair was rumpled and he was in a sweatshirt of his own. She would have thought she had woken him up, but she knew better. Sleeping for him was watching Lois sleep.

            “It’s Bruce,” she opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out the money she knew he kept there. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’d rather not leave him alone for long.”

            Clark nodded as she drew a twenty out of the wad of cash. “What was it tonight?” He leaned against the wall as she fished a pair of joggers out of another drawer.

            She shook her head. “He’s been in the harbor,” Diana gathered the small pile of clothing off of the top of the dresser and nudged the drawers shut. “Bring whatever,” she waved at the money in his hand.

            “So I take it he won’t be in the mood for room service?” Clark pocketed the cash and gave her a soft smile.

            “You know how he gets,” she ducked into his bathroom and pulled a towel out of the cabinet. “Could you heat these up for me?”

            “Are you two, you know, a _thing_ yet?” Clark quickly heated the clothing and the towel.

            Diana hoped the red light from his eyes hid her blush. “No, we’re not.” She gathered the clothing up again. “You really think Bruce Wayne has ever held feelings for someone?”

            “He cares enough to let you take care of him,” Clark wrapped an arm around her shoulders as a devilish grin crossed his face. “And he looks at you the way he looks at that Batmobile.”

            Diana playfully shoved him off, fighting a smile. “Get out,” she watched as he walked out onto the balcony and stepped out into open air. “Kal-El,” he turned to face her, “Thank you.” She dipped her head at him before shutting the glass door and turning away.

            She navigated her way through the dark house again, listening to the patter of water coming from her shower and letting her mind wander.

            Their situation was a unique one, she would give it that. She and Bruce lived together, but it was as housemates and nothing more. They were close because they were kindred spirits, both older and familiar with pain. None of the others shared that experience like they did. It was why Bruce let her in in the first place.

            She quietly opened the bathroom door and laid the sweats and towel on the counter. The steam in the bathroom would keep them warm until Bruce needed them.

            Was she really that oblivious? Or did Bruce keep his thoughts that well hidden? Diana had hoped they could eventually become more, but also knew that Bruce was beyond difficult and closed off. They spent their time together as close friends and nothing more.

            She hauled the comforter off of her bed and carried it to the laundry chute down the hallway. Some other blankets would have to do.

            “Their service was really, really fast for once,” Clark spoke up from behind her, making her jump out of her skin. “Like, in and out fast.”

            “Don’t do that!” She turned around and snatched the bag of Chinese takeout from his outstretched hand.

            “Do what?” Clark smiled at her. “Your fault for not seeing me coming,” he settled his feet on the floor as his smile faded. “Try your best to keep him out of trouble,” he ran a hand through his hair.

            “I will,” Diana insisted. Both of them flinched as the shower cut off. “Go back to Lois before she panics,” she waved him off. “You know how he’d react if he knew you were here.”

            “I know,” Clark sighed, “I wish it wasn’t this way, you know? That Bruce wasn’t… _Bruce_.”

            “He’s working on it,” she took a step towards her room.

            Clark’s feet left the ground and he was gone by the time she reached the door.

            “Who’s out there?” Bruce was standing in the bathroom doorway directly across from her, looking somewhat better now that he was dressed and warm. His eyes were suspicious.

            “Delivery boy,” she stepped into the room. The plastic bag crinkled as she set it on the foot of the bed. “Eat,” she gave him a pointed look.

            Bruce didn’t budge from the doorway, even as she brushed past him to collect his pants off of the floor. She pulled his suit out of her room and stuffed it all down the laundry chute.

            He was still in the doorway when she returned.

            “What?” She sat down on the bed. The suspicion on his face had faded into something entirely different. _Like he’s looking at his Batmobile_ , she thought. She resolved to make Clark regret that comparison. “Is something wrong? I can order something else,” she reached for the TV remote. “I’m sure there’s something on, if you want to watch,” she knew she was chattering. It was because he wasn’t responding. Had she stepped over a line? Was she reading him wrong?

            Finally he moved, walking to the bed and sitting down next to her. Diana tried to ignore their knees nearly touching. “This is perfect,” he kept his head ducked down, refusing to meet her eyes. Like a guilty puppy would. “Look, I shouldn’t have acted like I did earlier,” he murmured. He was fidgeting and picking at his cuticles.

            “Bruce,” she reached out and took his hand. “You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t offend me.” She rubbed her thumb across his bruised knuckles. “I understand.” Diana didn’t know what else to say.

            He eventually nodded, brown eyes rising to meet hers. She suddenly realized how close they were. Barely a breath’s length apart. “You didn’t have to do this,” he glanced at his clothes and the food. “You or Clark.” His eyes lingered on their hands. She couldn’t quite decipher the tone in his voice. It was one she had never heard before, not out of him or the Batman or the Billionaire.

            Diana pressed her lips together and looked away to pull the takeout containers out of the bag, reluctantly pulling her hand away from his. “I’m sorry,” she started, “You and Clark—“

            “It’s fine. I know that you both want to help, and I’m trying to work things out with Clark.” His expression and voice were more gentle than before.

            “Clark does care about you,” she opened a box and unwrapped a plastic fork and pressed them into his hands. “We all do. You don’t need to hide like this.”

            Bruce nodded and took a bite of rice. They fell into a comfortable silence as Diana opened her own food. She eventually turned on the TV and he moved to lean against the headboard. Rain began to patter against the roof and curtained windows. Bruce seemed to visibly relax at the sound.

            He only made it through one episode of Cops before he fell asleep, slouching against the pillows behind him. She couldn’t help but notice the lack of tension in his face. It pushed the years back and brought out a little bit of his forced Billionaire face.

            Diana was nearly out the door with their leftovers when he stirred. “Don’t leave,” he mumbled. He squinted in the light from the hallway.

            “I’m coming right back,” she tapped the takeout boxes. He seemed to struggle for a moment, then nodded.

            And she was right back. Diana skipped the staircase and leapt to the bottom and back up again as soon as their food was in the fridge. Bruce was still awake when she returned.

            “I’m right here,” she sat down in the curve of his body.

            “Thank you,” he rasped, “For everything.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face as lighting flickered through the curtains. “I don’t deserve it.”

            “Yes, you do,” she reached out to rest her hand on his waist. “Even if you didn’t, I would still do the same.”

            He nodded and looked away. “I know you would,” he whispered.

            Diana watched him for a long moment, then rose to her feet. “I’ll let you sleep,” she smoothed his hair off of his forehead. “I’ll be right here.” She picked up her copy of _The Phenomenology of the Spirit_ and settled herself on a stool next to her dresser, clicking the lamp on its dimmest setting to read.

            It wasn’t as bad of a night as she originally thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is kind of an edit note, but a lot of my edit functions aren't working. I promise I had a summary to the story, but it won't let me edit it! And there's also a lot of tags I need to add, but that isn't working either. Sorry if there's something here that isn't tagged!   
> Some of the new tags for upcoming chapters are minor Justice League spoilers, a pretty good touch of angst, and some canon-typical violence.  
> Enjoy!  
> (also to prevent any confusion: my formatting is bad because i am bad and also the title has nothing to do with anything it's just there)

Bruce woke up to find Diana literally hovering next to the foot of the bed, her nose buried in a giant novel and her foot tapping nothing at all. He didn’t realize she had that kind of flight control.

She was completely immersed in the book, drinking it in like water. It was one of her endearing habits that he had noticed a few times, catching her on some strange perch or in a cubby reading until her eyes were bleary.

She was completely at ease, her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head and her mouth silently working the words out of the book. She was wrapped in a red sweatshirt and blue and white starred shorts. She still looked like she could go into battle and come out victorious on the other side.

She hadn’t left him.

That was enough looking for the morning. He couldn’t let himself think that way, not about Diana. As far as he knew, she was just with him to keep him out of trouble and make Alfred’s job easier. Hell, she was more open with Clark than she was with him. Something told him that maybe she was that way because he was never open with anything.

Bruce pushed himself upright, feeling his entire body light up with various aches and pains. The worst was his shoulder, but that was normal. It bothered him that this kind of a life was normal. He bared his teeth and forced himself to swing his legs out of bed.

“You’re awake,” Diana spoke absentmindedly. She didn’t look away from her book.

“I am,” he grunted as he stood and stretched. His ribs were second on the list of Bruce’s Sore Body. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 2:30. “I’ve been asleep for how long?” He tried to count back and remember when he had returned to the mansion.

“Ten hours,” Diana mumbled.

He tried to fix his rumpled hair, but knew it was hopeless without some kind of product. “Has Alfred been by?”

“Laundry,” she leaned back, ignoring her hood hanging at the back of her head as she tipped upside down. “Let me finish this chapter,” she was chewing her lip, he noticed. Bruce looked away. His interest in her would only complicate things. The picture of Steve Trevor next to her mirror told him that.

He wished he was enough for her, enough that she would notice. But he was only a man. Steve was, too, but he was also the one who showed Diana her way around the world, even if it was only a brief time.

“What is so interesting about Steve Trevor?” Diana had closed her book and was looking at him quizzically. Bruce opened and shut his mouth. What was so interesting about Steve Trevor?

“The picture,” he waved his hand at it. “Not—not Steve.”

She quirked her mouth and then put her feet back on the floor. “A villager asked to take that after we liberated his town. Of course, we also destroyed his church and a number of buildings, but humans don’t pay attention to that.”

Bruce nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. She plucked the picture off of the mirror and held it up to the light. “Times have changed,” she murmured. Her eyes were on him, not the picture. “Preferences have changed.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. His thoughts from five minutes ago burned in the back of his mind. All arrows were suddenly pointing the other direction.

She gently set the picture back against the mirror and turned to face him. Her face was almost expectant, her eyes searching his. He wanted to close off and shut her out, but something wouldn’t let him. Why should he? She had seen him at his absolute worst more than a couple of times and still stuck around.

“What are you torn about?” Her head cocked to the side. He could do it, grab her and kiss her and their relationship could end in flames. Or he could shut down and hide from her and never act. He chose the third option.

“We’re going out tonight,” he blurted. “I owe you for last night,” he focused on the corner of the room. “And I’d like to take you out. At seven.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t want to see her reaction.

            “It’s a date, then.” He looked back at her and saw that crooked smile on her face. The one she saved for him.

            Bruce swallowed. He was never this nervous asking anyone out, no matter her status or personality. Why Diana? “It’s a date,” he scratched the back of his neck and turned away, practically scuttling out of her room and down into the Batcave. It was a date. He needed some time to hide. He cringed a little. He shouldn’t have been so open and easy to read, shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have shouldn’t have shouldn’t have.

            He wanted to literally kick himself.

            “Master Wayne, you’re awake,” Alfred appeared around the corner as he paced his office. He took in the room. “And you’re uneasy.”

            “I asked her out,” he didn’t stop pacing until Alfred placed a cup of coffee on his desk. “I don’t know where to take her or what to do,” he took a drink out of the mug, relishing the almost-too-hot taste. It calmed him.

            “I don’t believe that Miss Diana is picky,” Alfred straightened a couple of trinkets on his bookshelf. “Take her somewhere quiet.”

            “That helps,” he took another drink and tried to think of his usual haunts. None of them were what he wanted. He wanted it to be special. This could be his one chance at winning her over. Right?

            “You are overthinking this,” Alfred turned towards the door. “Miss Diana said yes, did she not?”

            “She did,” he sighed and stood up again. He had to figure out which suit to wear, which cologne to wear, what to do with his hair.

            Alfred followed him back up the stairs and to his bedroom. “If she said yes, she’s agreeing to go where you take her.”

            “And I’m taking her somewhere she’ll like,” he opened his closet. “I just don’t know where.”

            Alfred pursed his lips, then turned and walked out.

            The next several hours went by too slowly. At one point he caught Victor, Barry, Clark, and Lois walking in the foyer. The four of them looked like they had been caught red-handed, Lois carrying a large makeup bag and Barry holding a drink carrier full of Starbucks.

            “Uh,” Barry glanced around between his friends. Victor gave a blank smile. Lois immediately herded them up the stairs, leaving Bruce staring at Clark.

            “Hey, Bruce,” Kent gave him a genuine smile. “Sorry to intrude, Diana just sent out the—uh—the Bat Signal.” He laughed at the comparison. “No, but really,” Clark stepped closer. “Nice one. We’re over because Diana wants help for tonight.” He winked.

            Bruce didn’t know how to feel about Diana telling the whole rest of the team.

            He was yanked out of his thoughts when his watch beeped. He couldn’t deal with being the Batman, not tonight. His shoulder throbbed in agreement. And yet the Commissioner was calling for him. Diana would kill him if he canceled on her for Batman duties..

            He was being called to stomp a massive drug deal that night. The deal was set to take place right around midnight. Could he get Diana back home and get back out to the deal before it happened? Probably.          

            “Don’t,” Clark spoke up. He realized that he was still standing there, arms crossed across his chest. “Not after last night.”

            “Don’t tell me what not to do,” Bruce found himself nearly snarling the response.

            Clark twisted his mouth and gave him a long, long look. “Do you even have a functional suit right now?”

            Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Of course I do. You think one ruined suit is enough to keep me here?”

            “No, but I think it would be a shame if Superman beat you to the punch.” Clark adjusted his glasses.

            He didn’t know whether to lash out or thank the man. He could full well stop the deal himself and it ordinarily would have offended him if Clark offered to take over. But it wasn’t an ordinary kind of day.

            “You know, that would be a shame,” he stuck his hand out and Clark shook it. “I owe you,” he lowered his voice.

            “I’m still paying you back for getting the farm,” Kent released his hand. “Besides, friends don’t need to keep a tally.”

            Bruce didn’t know when they had become friends.

           

            He found himself waiting in the foyer at 6:40. He had eventually chosen a navy suit with a white shirt and silver tie. They were taking a new Aston Martin, he had decided. The engine faintly purred just outside.

            Diana appeared at the top of the stairs swathed in maroon. It was nearly the exact shade of her armor. Her dress was form-fitted and came to a sharp stop at the middle of her thighs. The neckline was high collared, draping off into a half cape that covered one shoulder. Bruce stepped over to the bottom of the spiral stairs and held his hand up for her to take.

He couldn’t help but notice the glint of cold metal peeking from under her long sleeve. She was always prepared. Maybe they had more in common than he originally realized.

            “Good evening, Mr. Wayne,” she gave him a crooked smile.

            “I see that you recruited help,” he nodded at the top of the stairs. Lois and Barry were crouching at the top, phones in hand. Barry’s camera flashed and he nearly dropped his phone.

            “The help recruited itself,” she looked away from them and back at him. “Though their motivations may be somewhat skewed.”

            “Only slightly,” he moved to open the front door. “As long as they don’t burn the place down,” he gave Barry a pointed look as he pulled the door open. Diana stepped outside, her heels solemnly clacking across the floor. He caught her waist as she passed and guided her to the car, pressing his key fob to open the door. It scissored up and Diana slid in gracefully. A glance back at the house revealed Lois and Barry peering through the windows at them.

            Bruce stepped in on the driver’s side and shut the doors. “Now that there’s not a pair of paps hawking us,” he shifted the Aston into gear. “You look stunning.”

            Truthfully, she looked like the goddess she was.

            But he couldn’t make himself say it. He was only a man, after all.

           

            “What are they saying?” Lois called as she thundered up the stairs. “Clark!”

            Clark smiled to himself and shook his head. “Lois, I’m not going to listen to them while they’re on a date. That’s borderline voyeuristic.”

            “No it’s not,” she stepped into the upstairs den. Clark and Victor had changed locations as soon as Diana and the other two left.

            “Yes it is,” Victor turned on the TV without touching it.

            Despite his protests, Clark did keep an ear on them through the night. Much of their conversation was light, Bruce acting like Bruce Wayne the Billionaire and not like his true self. However, he did catch little glimpses of the real Bruce, goofy and shy.

            “You’re listening, aren’t you?” Lois suddenly said. Well, not suddenly. She had been speaking before her accusation. He just wasn’t paying the closest attention.

            “Clark is listening?” Barry perked up immediately. He had previously been zoned out, inhaling slices of pizza while they watched Star Wars. Victor rolled his eyes and muttered something about a bunch of creeps.

            “I’m keeping an ear on them,” Clark ignored Lois’s indignant punch to his shoulder. “Because Bruce might try to run off and go do Batman stuff, and he told me he wouldn’t.”

            “What are they talking about?” Lois and Barry demanded in sync. Barry abandoned his pizza to lean closer to Clark, which involved leaning across Victor and blocking his view of the TV.

            “Superhero stuff,” Victor grumbled as he shoved Barry off. The brunet gave him an offended look, but didn’t take his attention off of Clark.

            “What do you think Bruce and Diana would talk about on their first date?” He tipped his head back against the couch.

            Lois paused, deep in thought. Barry took another bite of pizza. “The food?” She finally spoke up. “Or the restaurant?” She kept going when Clark shook his head. “Diana’s lovely makeup courtesy of me? Something Bruce bought lately?”

            “Closer,” he tuned into Bruce and Diana again. Bruce was paying their very hefty check.

            “A car? Another bank?” Lois was still going. “Did he invest in something?”

            “Yes, he invested in something.”

            Barry finally spoke up. “Superhero damage insurance.”

            “Barry got it,” Clark couldn’t help but notice that Victor was tensing up, the light under his sweatshirt and in his eye intensifying. The others didn’t seem to notice.

            “Wait, so Bruce Wayne, the Batman, invested in superhero damage insurance?” Lois snickered.

            “There’s a reason why Bruce Wayne is the richest man on the planet,” Victor sat up straighter.

            Clark could hear the valet pulling the car up, heard the slither of Diana’s dress against the seat. He also heard an undertone of danger, something he couldn’t quite pick up on. Victor seemed to sense the same.

            It didn’t make sense. Nothing would threaten the Billionaire. Bruce Wayne was just that: Bruce Wayne. He didn’t hold enemies and was a world-renowned philanthropist.

            As for Diana, she was still very much unknown to the world. She wasn’t hiding herself, but she wasn’t exactly putting herself out there either. No one would attack her in the first place. Those that knew of her viewed her much like they viewed Superman; a benevolent and kind protector.

            He was missing something.

            “Something’s wrong,” Victor finally spoke. He shut the TV off and stood up, stepping on Barry’s pizza box.

            “What is it?” Lois glanced between the three of them. Barry gave her an equally confused look.

            “Bruce’s investment,” Victor paused, his eyes growing unfocused. “There are certain people who don’t like the fact that Bruce Wayne is invested both in Batman and in this new insurance company.”

 

            “What does this mean?” Diana suddenly spoke up from the passenger seat. She had fallen silent and thoughtful on the drive back to the mansion.

            Bruce tightened his grip on the steering wheel just a little bit. “What do you mean?”

            “The date,” she was watching him.

            “It means we went on a date,” he dodged her question, struggling to find an appropriate response. Truthfully, he had no idea what it meant. It hadn’t crossed his mind.

            Diana rolled her eyes. “You’re a mess,” she took his hand from where it was resting on the gearshift. “It’s up to you, but—“ she stopped mid-sentence. He barely recognized the light of other headlights before the world was made of shattered glass and crumpled black. He had slipped. He wasn’t prepared. He was only a man, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

            Diana saw the other vehicle coming faster than Bruce did. She heard the scream of tires on the pavement as the other car flew towards them. Towards Bruce. She didn’t have the time to protect him before the other vehicle collided with theirs, suddenly filling the air with shattered glass and the throaty sound of metal being crushed. She blocked the dashboard airbag with her bracelets and threw herself through the windshield before the car came to a complete stop.

            “You’d better run far, far from here, missy.” A rough voice spoke from behind her. Diana opened her senses and took in everything, including the wreck. There was a circle of men coming out of the woods, each armed. Flames were licking out from under the folded hood of the other car.

            “Don’t let her leave,” one of the men waved a hand at her. “She can come with us.”

            The accident was planned. Had they discovered Bruce’s identity and struck when he was most vulnerable?

            Diana put one of her hands up and used the other to slowly unclasp her heels. Why wasn’t Bruce moving? A man wielding a shotgun was clambering onto the back of the wrecked Aston. She could see Bruce through the smoke and shattered glass. He looked—she forced the thought out of her mind. He wasn’t dead. He was convulsing.

            “You’d better come here,” The second man raised his voice. “We wouldn’t want you to see your boyfriend’s brains on the pavement.”

            Diana rolled up her sleeves and saw several pairs of eyes fall on her bracelets.

            “Is she…?”

            “Take those off of her,” one man growled.

            “These?” She held her wrists out to him. The bracelets shone in the moon and firelight. “Good luck,” she drew back and clashed them together. The men in front of her flew backwards, some skidding on the pavement and others cracking against trees behind them.

            The entire group fell silent for a split second. Diana sensed a bullet coming and ducked underneath it, tugging her heels off in the process. One of the other men ate the bullet intended for her.

            “What the hell?” The man with the shotgun leveled it at her. “Forget about the asshole,” he jumped off of the roof of the Aston. “Take care of the—“ His voice was cut off as Diana hurled one of her shoes, the stiletto finding its mark in his eye socket. She charged forward, blocking a sudden rain of bullets with her bracelets. Her other heel found a similar resting place in a man’s skull.

            The men began to instinctively cluster, their fear obvious. She flipped into the cluster, using her momentum to drive the back of her heel down onto someone’s head. Her foot collided with a hollow sound. The flames behind her intensified, driving her to move faster.

            Bruce would have condemned her for the lives that she took.

            “Diana!” Clark thundered from behind her. She hadn’t even heard him hurl the flaming car, hadn’t seen him pry Bruce free from the wreck. “That’s enough.” He had Bruce slung over his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

            She came out of the haze she had become trapped in. She was spattered in blood from her shins to the front of her dress to her hands and bracelets. Some of the men were in pieces. Her dress looked black where it was stained.

            Her own hands had done it.

            Diana saw the look on Clark’s face and the blood on her hands.

            “No,” she shook her head at him.

            She couldn’t go back, not yet. She couldn’t face the others. Victor landed next to Clark, glowing in the night. His eye glanced between her and the carnage around her, then up at Clark.

            She wished she were human. Humans weren’t judged for slipping up, not like a goddess was.

            Diana took off into the black sky.

            Her flight landed her on the balcony of her apartment in Paris. She forced the door open and stepped inside. It was left largely untouched in her indefinite leave of absence.

            She stood in the center of the living room for a long time, her body still and her mind whirling. She had lost control of herself. It was a horrible feeling that sat deep in her chest, like a ball of tar.

            Seventeen.

            Diana finally moved, walking to the master bathroom and stepping into the shower. She turned the water on and let it soak her through. The water ran pink. She rubbed at her eyes and her face, ruining the makeup Lois had worked so hard on. She needed out.

            She shut the water off and worked her way out of the now clingy and dripping dress, ignoring the snap of more than a couple seams. Her towel felt rough and scratchy as she dried off. Her bracelets joined the sopping dress in the bottom of the shower, clattering against the tile.

            Diana dug her biggest, most comfortable clothing out of her closet and stepped into it, then padded into the kitchen and turned on her Keurig.

            Two large mugs of coffee and an hour of infomercials had her feeling no better. The clock ticked on as she searched for some way to clear her mind, to force her guilt and shame out. Nothing worked.

            Seventeen.

 

            It had been a long, long night. Somehow those nights weren’t unusual for Alfred. He couldn’t count the number of times Bruce had stumbled out of the Batmobile dripping blood or broken in some way. He wanted to stop him each time he sat down in that cockpit to leave and get beaten to a pulp. He never did.

            It was bad when Bruce had a head injury. He didn’t handle the confusion or disorientation well, nor the throbbing headache. He especially didn’t handle the recovery well. It was hell for him to stay grounded for longer than a couple of days.

            So when Clark flew in with Bruce thrown over his shoulder, he knew it was a bad night. He didn’t question, just acted and hoped Clark would explain why there were pieces of broken glass embedded in Bruce’s cheek and why he was unconscious.

            Kent very quickly told him what happened, then cleared out before Bruce woke up. Alfred respected his carefulness and tact around Bruce, even if the Batman was a dick. Clark was trying, he knew. And Bruce was trying in his own way.

            It turned out to be several hours before Bruce was fully conscious. Alfred busied himself by refreshing his concussion protocol and making the med bay as comfortable as possible.

            “Alfred,” he was pulled out of his reflection by the rasp of Bruce’s voice. He stood from his seat and poured a glass of water, holding it to Bruce’s lips. He drank, then pushed the glass away. “What happened?”

            “You and Miss Diana were in a car accident,” he left out the part about a gang of men intending to kill him. He could find that out with time. For now he needed rest. “You’ve suffered a concussion and some other injuries.”

            Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, confusion evident in the deep furrow in his brow. “Is she alright?”

            “She hasn’t been here,” Alfred said. “She’s most assuredly in one piece, according to Clark.” He reached up and dimmed the lights even more than they already were.

            “What does that mean?” His voice was slowly recovering its sound. “Why is Clark involved?”

            He shouldn’t have mentioned Clark, for Bruce’s sake. Despite the progress they had made, the two weren’t on the friendliest terms.

            “She was most likely the one who saved your life.” Alfred set the glass down and adjusted the pillows behind Bruce’s head.

            “You’re not making any sense,” he muttered. His mood was quickly souring.

            Alfred shook his head. “Clark brought you here from the accident. I only know what he told me.” And Bruce only knew what he told him.

            Bruce started to push himself upright. “I need to find out what happened,” he quickly fell back against the pillows and pressed his hands against his head. “Help me up,” he kicked his feet against the mattress, forcing the blankets down and wadding them at the foot of the bed.

            “Bruce, you need to rest,” he gently pressed the younger man down. “I can’t let you up until I know for sure that you’re going to be alright.” Bruce’s chest was heaving.

            “I’m fine,” he slapped his hand off and continued to struggle. “I’m awake and I’m alert,” his voice took an almost whiny tone. “Just let me up.”

            “No,” Alfred gave him a stern look. “Diana is fine and she’ll return soon.” He hated to keep him down, but it was necessary.

            Bruce flopped his head back against the pillows and let out a long breath. “Fine,” he breathed. “Can you at least find out what happened?”

            “Of course,” he handed him he TV remote. “You’re not exactly supposed to watch any screens for the time being, but TV seems to be the most mindless activity you participate in.”

            The TV clicked on to a news channel. Breaking News ticked across the bottom of the screen. “We’re just outside of Gotham, where it’s believed that Bruce Wayne, heir and executive of Wayne Enterprises, was involved in a car accident.” A blonde anchor was sitting at her desk in one frame. “What can you tell us, Clark?”

            Clark Kent himself was standing in the other frame, his feet crunching on broken glass. “Thanks, Karen,” he held a finger up to his earpiece. Bruce visibly stiffened, the remote creaking in his grip. “We don’t know much about what happened last night, but it appears that this incident was an attack on Mr. Wayne. He is reported to be in stable condition and is being cared for in a private facility. Investigations are preliminary, but it appears that a group of men planned to disable Wayne’s vehicle with their own, then murder him. Police found a number of weapons on the scene.

            “However, a wild animal of some kind thwarted their plot. Seventeen men were found dead and a set of large, bear-like footprints was found near the site of the accident. Investigators are unsure what happened here, though police have a preliminary motive.”

            Alfred took the remote from his hand and shut the TV off. Bruce sagged further into the pillows and covered his eyes with one hand.

 

            Diana spent hours, days looking for ways to occupy herself and ignore the thing weighing her down. Maybe it would go away if she ignored it long enough.

            Somehow she wondered if this was how Bruce ignored his own guilt; he threw himself so wholly into his work that he had no time to think or reflect on it.

She walked the streets of Paris for miles at a time.

She stopped a bank robbery simply by showing up.

_“It’s Wonder Woman,” one of the robbers had whispered. They fled the scene, leaving her with awed citizens. She left just as quickly as they did._

She drank and partied a night away. It was beyond tempting to take a man home and forget her sorrows. She didn’t.

She returned to work in the Louvre.

_“Ah, Diana, you’re back,” her boss welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek. “For how long?”_

_“Just a couple of days,” she replied._

She did all of it in solitude.

She was painting when he showed up.

            “Get out,” she spoke around the end of a paintbrush in her mouth. It fell when he opened the balcony door. “I said, get out.” She lowered her voice. The paintbrush in her hand shivered.

            He sat down on the couch across from her. “Bruce is going to be okay,” he looked at his hands. “The car accident caught him off guard and gave him a pretty nasty concussion, but he’ll be okay.”

            Diana didn’t look at him.

            “Seventeen,” she said.

            “Diana,” he stood and took the paintbrush out of her hand. It dripped crimson onto her white couch. “Stop,” he dropped the brush into her cup of water and put his hands on her shoulders. “Whatever this is, stop it.”

            “Stop painting? Stop working?” She finally looked at him, her eyes blurring with tears. “I can’t, Clark, I can’t stop. I murdered seventeen men in one night,” she lifted a hand and wrapped it in her hair. “Not killed, murdered.”

            He let out an eternally heavy sigh. “You did it to protect Bruce.”

            “I lost control,” she sniffed. “I wasn’t even thinking of Bruce.”

            “You’re not thinking of him now, either.” Clark sat down again, carefully avoiding the blotch of paint on the couch. “This is—this is selfish. You’re wallowing in this and not being there for him when he needs you more than ever. I told him you’re on emergency business in Themyscira.”

            “Give me some time,” she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “I don’t want to. I can’t face him. Not right now.”

            “You can,” he squeezed her tight. “You faced Superman, didn’t you?”

            “No, I faced Kal-El,” she wiped at her eyes. “There’s a difference.”

            “What, that Superman saves the world and Kal-El headbutts you into the ground?” He rested his cheek against the top of her head.

            She couldn’t help but smile. “No, that Kal-El is much more of a jerk than Superman. He’s not perfect.”

            “Yeah, that’s why I headbutted you instead of listening and talking it out.” He drew back and looked at her. “You can do it, Diana. If he can’t understand and forgive you, then he’s not worth your time.”

            Diana looked down at her hands. “Forgiving me doesn’t mean he’ll take me back.”

            Clark sighed. “I know. But there’s no chance at all if you don’t try.” He paused for a long moment. “He needs you, Diana.”

            She didn’t want to think about the implications of that statement.

 

            Diana returned to the mansion a day later to find it dark and empty. Even Alfred was nowhere to be found. She dropped her bag off outside of her bedroom and leaned her forehead against the closed door. _What was she doing?_

            The hall light clicked on, startling her.

            “Oh, Miss Diana,” Alfred was standing next to the switch. “I thought I heard you come in.” She hated how quietly Alfred and Bruce could move.

            “Yeah,” she spoke tentatively.

            “Is something the matter? You’ve just returned from a long trip, I hear.” His sharp eyes studied her.

            “It was a long trip, yes.” Her voice gained strength as she spoke. “Themyscira isn’t exactly easy to find.”

            Alfred’s face remained neutral. It made her nervous. “Is there any way that I can be of assistance?”

            “No, thank you,” she picked up her bag and turned to open her door. “How is Bruce?”

            “He’s healing nicely,” Alfred lightened up a bit at that. “He’s currently out on a walk.” He paused. “Between you and I, he’s not enjoying his recovery.”

            Diana nodded and opened her door. “Thanks again, Alfred.”

            The butler bowed his head and turned away as she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. It was dark, the windows shaded against an already drizzly day outside. Her room appeared almost as she had left it. Minus Bruce reclining on her bed.

            “Don’t,” he spoke when she reached for the light switch. His voice was full of gravel. She had the sinking suspicion that she was dealing with the Bat more than Bruce. “What were you doing?” The room suddenly felt frigid. She could see half-healed marks on his cheek that disappeared into his hair.

            Wallowing in a pit of misery? Having a pity party? “There was an emergency in Themyscira. Alfred told me you were out on a walk.”

            Bruce nodded. He was completely neutral, just like Alfred was. She knew that neutrality on him was dangerous. “Alfred can’t keep track of me all the time. For eight days?”

            “Several ceremonies and elections,” she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Steppenwolf took a number of our warriors with him.”

            He stood and crossed the room to stand over her. “Then why was there a report of Wonder Woman stopping a robbery in Paris?” his voice was low. “You were never in Themyscira.” The accusation pierced her through and through.

            Diana cringed, instinctively stepping back. She should have stayed in Paris. She could have at least hidden longer.

            “I just—I want to know what’s going on,” he drew back, scratching the back of his neck. “You disappeared after the accident and Clark is keeping his lips just as tight as you are.” He seemed to realize that he was acting like the Bat.

            “I went to Paris,” she stared at the floor. “I stayed there for eight days to try to clear my head.”

            “Why?” She could feel the heat of his gaze on her face. The venom had left him and was replaced with confusion. “Did I do something?”

            “No, Bruce, it isn’t you,” Diana tasted something foul in the back of her throat. “I did something wrong after the accident. I left because I was—I am—ashamed.”

            “Ashamed of what? I’m alive because you were there.” He reached up to hold her cheek.

            Diana desperately wanted to keep his hand there, to press into his palm and let go of the whole thing. She pushed his hand away with enough force that he got the message.

            “No one told you?” She forced herself to put her walls up. It was the only way she would stay strong.

            “Told me what? That you fought off an entire gang of men trying to kill me? The ones who intentionally rammed my car?” He looked stung. “Diana, I don’t remember a single bit of it and Clark won’t answer anything. I have—a right to know.” He stumbled over his words.

            It wasn’t ideal to have this conversation now, not while he was still clearly suffering from his concussion. She braced herself, internally raising her shield. He had every reason to lash out, to pierce her with sharp words and leave her to bleed on the floor.

            He wouldn’t be judged for it, not like she would. He was human.

            “I killed them,” she found the strength to stare him in the face. “I lost control and I killed every single one of them. That’s what Clark won’t tell you, because it’s my responsibility.” She turned her head away. “My sin.” The words dripped from her throat, thick and wrong.

            He fell silent and still.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't edit my summary or tags, and I just saw that there's a typo in the summary that I didn't even know was there :> I promise I know how to use to and too!! Hopefully this will be resolved soon!!
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated :)

“My sin,” Diana’s voice was barely audible. Her voice was heavy.

            Bruce recognized his own guilt and shame in her. And he recognized something in her that was more than he could ever reach; the strength to admit her wrongs to his face. She stared down rejection, despite her fear and despite her desire to hide.

            It didn’t matter what she had done, truthfully. It stung that she and Clark lied to his face, but her willing admittance was more than he could ever manage.

He was only a man. He didn’t have the right to condemn her, and the fact that she was in front of him was enough.

He had been more than a little afraid that she would never come back to him. That she would be another exit in his life. Another rejection. Her absence had reminded him that holding on to what she did wasn’t worth it.

And yet here she was, spilling her guts for him.

            “I know,” Bruce whispered. He gathered her into his arms and tucked her head under his chin, feeling the rigid tension in her body. She had been expecting worse. “I knew before you came.”

            She still tried to push him away, tried to pull his arms off. She didn’t actually want out. If she wanted out, he knew she would be gone by now. “I don’t want you to,” she gave a halfhearted push against his chest. “You’re supposed to hate me, to condemn me,” she spat the words.

            “I’m in no place to do that,” he rubbed her back with one hand.

            “I don’t deserve this,” she protested.

            He remembered what she had told him after the same words left his mouth. “You do,” he pressed his lips into her hair. “Even if you didn’t, I would still do the same.” She smelled of citrus flowers.

            Diana sagged against him, burying her face in his chest. He would hold her for as long as she needed.

            Eventually she pulled away and he let her. She sniffed and rubbed at one eye. He felt a twinge of remorse. Their lives could never be normal because of who they were. It was nothing of their own doing, either. He couldn’t prevent the steps that led him to his current position, and she couldn’t change what she was.

            Diana turned away and walked to the window, pulling the curtains back. It was perfectly dreary out. “You told Alfred you were going for a walk in this?” She looked over her shoulder at him.

            He shrugged. “He just wanted me out of his hair.”

            She nodded and looked back out the window. Her room had one of the better views in the house, overlooking the lake with a touch of forest on the adjacent wall. A view with nearly-black hair and a straight nose and more than a touch of strength.

            He knew she would overcome.

            “Bruce?” She didn’t look away from the window. He drifted a few steps closer. “Are we alright?” She rested her hands on the windowsill and leaned forward on them, hunching her shoulders. He could barely see her reflection, her face moon-white in the drizzly light.

            “We’re alright,” he moved to stand beside her, pushing the curtain all the way out of the window. The lake looked muddy and gray. It matched the sky. Winter was fast on its way. He turned his head away to look at her. “Are you alright?” His voice was hushed.

            Diana continued to study the water. “The lake will eventually clear up,” she lifted a hand from the sill and pushed her hair back. “Even if it has to freeze over first.” Her eyes were dark.

            Bruce looked back over the water. She had never struck him as the type to brood. He could feel the frustrating exhaustion that came with a concussion. It weighed his head down and built pressure in his skull.

            “You didn’t let me turn the light on because it would hurt your eyes, didn’t you?” He caught Diana’s eye in her reflection. The last traces of guilt were leaving her face to be hidden away somewhere within. He didn’t know when it would resurface again.

            “No,” he grasped for some kind of an excuse. He had nothing. She was spot on and he was quickly growing too tired to come up with anything.

            “Yes you did,” she turned to face him. He realized how close they were. Diana was intentionally in his space, a smug grin twisting her lips. He didn’t know how to respond. “Do you need something?”

            “It’s possible,” he tentatively reached out and put a hand on her waist. “But I don’t know if I can have it.”

            Her teeth flashed in a crooked smile. “This is your mansion, Bruce. Anything in it is yours.”

            He kissed her, soft as the drizzle outside. He lingered, lips brushing hers. He wanted to save it forever, remember the cold gray light silhouetting them, remember the scent of her shampoo, remember the warmth radiating from her.

            Bruce pulled away. She was intoxicating.

            “We’ll work this out,” he whispered.

            Diana’s face twisted and darkened for just a moment. “Go get some rest, Bruce,” she stepped back.

            He wondered when they had grown so much alike while still being drastically different people. He nodded after a moment and left the room, clicking the light on as he walked out.

           

            “Well?” Clark let himself and Lois in through the window. He set her down before he touched the floor. “What happened?”

            Diana jerked upright from where she was bent over her armor. “Do Kryptonians and investigative journalists not believe in knocking?” She swiped a hand across her cheek. “He already knew before I told him.” She adjusted the breastplate where it rested on the stand. She was working in the upstairs den with the TV playing in the background. “You already knew before I told you.”

            “You might want to…” Lois gave an exaggerated gesture at her face.

            “There’s polish on your face,” Clark spoke up as he sat down on the windowsill. “Why are you polishing that anyways?”

            “How did he know?” Lois settled on Diana’s stool and helped her get the mark off of her face.

            “The news,” he shrugged out of his jacket. “I did a report on what happened and the news kind of went viral for a day or two. It isn’t every day that a gang attempts to kill a billionaire for his investment choices,” his voice was careful and he was watching Diana. “I—ah, I flew in a few Kodiak bears.”

            Diana looked at him for a long moment. “Is that some kind of journalism code you two haven’t bothered to teach me? Like, flew in a few large associates?”

            “No, he literally flew to Alaska and stole a few bears,” Lois explained.

            “Investigators still think it’s sketchy, obviously, but you’re in the clear.” Clark was still staring at her, studying her closely.

            Diana didn’t know how to feel. Clark, yet again, had protected her and saved her from trouble. But he had also lied to the world and resorted to stealing bears to do it. She choked back a laugh at the thought.

            The others did too. Soon they were fighting to control their laughter. She could feel her soul lightening just a little. Only Clark would think of a plan like that and make it work.

            They eventually regained control and fell into a comfortable silence, Lois wiping tears from her eyes. Diana turned back to her armor and started buffing out a particularly deep scratch.

            “Really, why are you polishing that? It doesn’t… need it, does it?” Lois paused. “It’s magic, isn’t it?”

            “It is,” Diana chewed the inside of her lip. “I’m polishing it for something to do,” she lied. “I finished the _Phenomenology of the Spirit_ and I don’t feel like starting another read yet.” Truthfully, she was polishing it to put it away.

            Lois scooted off of the stool and bent to pick up her bracelets. “How do you fight with these? They’re heavy,” she shook them a little and slipped one on, handing the other to Clark. “Like,” she faked a punch, “I can’t even throw a punch.”

            “You can’t throw a punch anyways,” Diana gave her a sideways look.

            “Well, yeah,” Lois pulled the bracelet off and took the other one back from her boyfriend—fiancé? She wasn’t sure what the two of them were. “Because I spend my time doing normal person things, like dating Superman and chasing down stories about aliens. I don’t have time to learn how to throw a punch,” her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She set the bracelets back down and reached for the shield next.

            “My aunt trained me with that when I was young,” Diana felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with sadness. “I used it because I couldn’t have anything sharp.” She didn’t want to give it up.

            “How strong are you?” Lois hefted the shield off of where it was leaning against the wall and slid her arm into the straps. She could barely hold the shield up.

            “You look strong,” Clark spoke up. Diana didn’t look at him. He had been unusually quiet ever since the topic of her equipment came up. She knew that he knew she was up to something.

            Lois smiled at him, her cheeks turning pink. “You think I can come with you now and save the world?”

            He reached out and pulled her close. “Maybe once you can use that like it’s intended.”

            Diana continued to chew the inside of her lip and searched for a way to get Clark’s attention off of what she was doing. “Bruce wasn’t angry,” she took her stool and her shield back as he pulled Lois into his lap.

            “Of course he wasn’t,” Lois leaned her head against Clark’s shoulder. “He’s very much bad at hiding how he feels about you.”

            “Were you expecting him to be?” Clark was just a little absentminded.

            Diana’s stomach churned. She didn’t want him to think right now. “I was,” she pushed her hair away from her face. “I stepped against all of his standards.”

            “Is he doing alright?” Lois didn’t seem to notice the tension.

            She nodded. “He’s still recovering, so he’s stuck here for a bit longer than he’d like to be, but he’s well.”

            The journalist paused, finally seeming to notice. She glanced between the two of them, then hopped out of Clark’s lap. “You know? I need to go to the bathroom,” she backed away. “And you two need to work something out, I take it?”

            “Yes, we do,” Clark stood as soon as she was gone. “What are you doing?” He sounded almost exasperated.

            “I can’t be trusted with this,” she gestured at the equipment littered around the corner of the room.

            “And?”

            “And I’m putting it away.” Diana pressed her lips together as he began to pace.

            “You were gifted with all of this so that you can protect mankind and you’re just throwing it all away?” He raked his fingers through his hair.

            “Why is this bothering you so much?” She threw one hand out. “What does it matter to you?” She could feel both of their tempers rising.

            “Because you’re not,” he abruptly stopped, then lowered his voice. “Because this armor and these weapons are yours and they’re yours to use. You can’t just let them go because of one mistake. And I can’t let one of my closest friends do this. There are times when you need tough love, and this is one of them.”

            “They weren’t even gifted to me,” she kicked the shield away and let it spin on the floor, the sound echoing around the room. “I stole them the night that I left Themyscira. Only the bracelets are mine.” An old taste of guilt resurfaced in her mind. The guilt that came with the knowledge that she was responsible for the deaths of several Amazons and her mother’s sorrow. Something else she had hidden from for decades.

            “If your mother wanted them back, she would have taken them. You were meant to have these and use them, and you’re going to let them collect dust instead.” Clark picked up the shield. “You and I both know that.”

            “My mother couldn’t have taken them from me if she had tried,” Diana looked at her feet, wrapped around a bar on the stool. “I can’t be trusted with these,” she repeated. Her voice was on the verge of breaking and she hated it. “I murdered with these.”

            He sighed and set her shield down next to her bracelets. “You were meant to have those. They’re a part of you, whether you like it or not.” He gave her a pointed look. “Whether you use them properly or not.”

            Diana gave him a withering look. He was piercing straight through her. He knew exactly what she was doing. “I think you and Lois should leave.”

            On cue, Lois reappeared from the bathroom and grabbed onto her boyfriend. “It was nice seeing you,” she smiled. It was thin and flimsy. Clark pursed his lips and took off.

            Diana pretended she couldn’t see Bruce at the end of the hallway as she worked at the new scuff on her shield.

 

            Bruce expected the worst when Diana appeared in his office doorway a few hours later, bracelets in hand. He had only caught a little bit of her argument with Clark, but he knew what she was about to do. It hurt him.

            “I’m not taking those, if that’s what you’re here for.” He stilled his hands where he was trying to sew a tear in his cape. The cape spilled over his lap and his desk, appearing to drip from the surface.

            “This isn’t an offer.” Her voice was flat. She crossed the room and nearly slapped the bracelets onto his cape where it draped over the desk. “You’re keeping these until I can learn how to use them for good.”

            “This isn’t working it out, Diana,” he pushed them away. “This is avoiding it and punishing yourself in the process.”

            “How is this avoiding it?” Anger sparked in her voice. “I’m doing what I can to prevent myself from another mistake. The rest of my armor and weapons are already in your armory.”

            “This isn’t how you deal with your mistakes and move on,” he grabbed her hand when she reached to push them back. “Clark was right, okay? You are meant to have these, for good or not. They’re a part of you that you can’t just pawn off on someone else.” He sighed, his grip turning gentler. “We’ve all made mistakes and had to make difficult decisions. And even though we want to run and hide, we don’t. Has Clark ever given up his suit because he couldn’t save everyone?”

            She stared down at the floor. He could barely see the flicker of her eyelashes as she blinked back tears. “I don’t want them,” she whispered. “I don’t want the power or the responsibility or the liability.”

            “We didn’t choose it,” he squeezed her hand. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes and failed plenty of times, and even though I blamed myself and felt the worst kind of guilt, I didn’t hang up the cape and quit.” He ran his other hand over the thick fabric. “It wouldn’t have helped anyone if I quit.”

            She looked almost as if she was going to take them back. Instead her face hardened and she looked up at him. “They’re yours,” she pulled her hand away and swiftly left the room.

            Bruce was left staring at the silver bracelets. They still smelled of polish.

            He wanted to be mad. He wanted to force her to take them back. He wanted to wipe that broken look off of her face. All of which he couldn’t do.

            He pushed himself out of his seat and followed after her, ignoring the cape sliding to the cold floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i have officially given up on editing the tags or that dang typo in the summary!   
> and also i realized my setting for like 87% of this story is the wonkiest non-setting anyone has ever written. like idk it's this weird mix of the original Wayne manor but also Bruce's glass house and it's just strange and i probably should have researched it more :>
> 
> feedback is always super appreciated!!

Of course, chasing Diana when she didn’t want to be chased was an unfair battle. Even without her weapons and armor, she was still the daughter of Zeus. She was gone.

            Bruce still searched the whole property for her. He needed something to do, something to clear his thoughts. He checked every room, every cubby in the mansion, every dark crag in the Batcave, even the cockpits of the Flying Fox II and the Batmobile. Then his feet took him outside into the rain.

            He knew he couldn’t just make Diana’s guilt go away or somehow force her to do anything; he didn’t hold any kind of power over her. He doubted that even Clark could do it. It bothered the control freak in him that he couldn’t control that part of his life, but the other half of him loved it. She was something he didn’t have to worry about controlling.

            He walked the trail that circled the lake, ignoring the steady rain that soaked his hair and his shirt. He thought best in the rain. His mind kept coming back to the bracelets, surely on the floor and tangled in his cape. He had already seen the rest of her equipment in a neat pile in the cave.

            Bruce didn’t want any of it. He didn’t want to be in possession of it, didn’t want to be responsible for it. The weight of those items was incredibly heavy. He could guard them, but what was he to do if some other Greek god or demigod appeared to take them? It was dangerous.

            And Diana was intentionally putting herself out of commission by giving them to him. She couldn’t go and stop bank robberies or fight without risking severe injury in the process.

            That was all that he knew. As far as he knew, her bracelets could have affected her powers in general. His months of research on her prior to organizing the League had dug up myths upon myths about those bracelets. Some sources claimed that the bracelets strengthened her powers and added another level of defense to her fighting; others claimed they held her powers back with immense weight and magic.

           She needed to take them back. Even if she never used them again, they were hers. But he couldn’t make her take them. A swell of frustration tightened his throat for just a moment, then let go. She was impossible when she tried to be. Just like he was, he supposed. She just saved her impossibility for when she wanted to be.

            In that moment he recognized that she was trying to deal with her guilt, and that was the method she chose. Diana was still Diana, even without her lasso or her bracelets. He couldn’t make everything about the League.

            His thoughts were cleared but his head was not by the time he reached the mansion again. For the thousandth time he told himself not to get hit in the head when he could help it. His mind felt like it was full of cotton, difficult to get through and sticky to everything.

            Alfred found him fast asleep on the couch.

 

            Diana found herself on Lois’s doorstep. Which, coincidentally, was also Clark’s doorstep. Dry corn stalks whispered in the rain behind her. She hoped that Lois was around.

            “Diana?” Her friend’s head peeked out of a window upstairs. “Come up here!” She patted the windowsill. Her strawberry blonde hair was in a messy bun on top of her head and her face was makeup-free.

            Diana leapt up and through the window. The room was warmly lit and scented by the several candles Lois had burning. None of them smelled the same, but somehow the scents worked together. The room also clearly belonged to a pair of journalists; the walls were littered with newspaper clippings and printed stories and the desk in the room was stacked with notepads and piles of notes. She liked it.

            Her room seemed dull and dry in comparison, all gray walls and empty surfaces. She decided she would decorate it when she got the chance.

            “Oh, I guess you’ve never been in here before,” Lois straightened a stack of papers. “Sorry, I should have realized.”

            “It’s perfectly fine,” Diana stopped her. “I like it in here.”

            “Thanks,” Lois smiled. “What brings you here?”

            She shrugged. “I wanted to spend time with you.” She paused when the other woman’s head tilted. She was already formulating questions. “Bruce and Clark aren’t happy with me, anyways.”

            “Aw, you got in a fight with Bruce?” Lois put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. He’s so difficult sometimes. And, so you don’t have to worry, Clark is at work for the rest of the night. You won’t have to see him.”

            “I was the one being difficult,” Diana sighed and lowered her eyes. “I’m here because you’ll at least understand,” she looked back up at her. “I gave Bruce my equipment so that I can’t use it, but he said the same thing as Clark and didn’t want to take them. So I left and this was the only place I could think of.”

            Lois nodded at her, bun flopping on top of her head. “I know,” she was serious. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you and neither one of them is letting you deal with it like you need to.” She drew her into a hug. Diana felt all the warmth of it, even though she was nearly a head taller than her friend. “If Wonder Woman needs to disappear for a while, then that’s okay. Don’t let Clark or Bruce make you feel bad about that.”

            Diana slowly returned the hug. “Thank you,” she murmured. It was something she hadn’t thought of. She had every reason to take care of herself first, not the League, not Clark or Bruce’s feelings. And if that meant taking a break, she could take a break.

            “Do you want to go do girl stuff?” Lois stepped back to look at her. “Since we haven’t done girl stuff in a while and you need some pampering. It’s still early enough, right? You’re not jetlagged or anything?” She gave a bright smile.

            Had she really only gotten back yesterday? It felt like weeks since she had walked in to find Bruce, days since Clark and Lois had shown up that morning.

            “Let’s go do girl stuff,” Diana nodded. She always enjoyed their days out, even if she didn’t get the chance to say it. There was something deeply relaxing about getting their nails done and being able to have some time to be normal people, not a demigoddess and Superman’s girlfriend-fiancée-thing.

            So they hopped into Lois’s old Pontiac and drove to the mall. She felt at ease with Lois, knowing she wasn’t being judged for giving up the mantle for the time being. They stopped at a nail salon in the mall and got Starbucks and indulged in normal things that they didn’t always have the liberty to.

            It was all activities that an Amazon warrior would never do, especially not the daughter of Zeus and princess of Themyscira. And she felt stronger for it. She didn’t always have to be a warrior decked in armor and bristling with weapons.

            However, her comfort with Lois and more peaceful state of mind didn’t stop the fear from washing over her every time she bumped into someone or saw a face that looked familiar. She was scared of herself, scared that she wasn’t fully in control.

            Diana returned to the mansion later that night to find Bruce’s light on. She decided to avoid risking it and snuck in through her window. He was most likely going to be frustrated until she took her stuff back, and she wasn’t taking it back until she trusted herself again. She wondered if they could make things work.

            She took her mind off of it by rearranging and redecorating her room. It didn’t feel as forced as it had in Paris, as if she was pushing a heavy door shut instead of a boulder up a hill. She was making things right, one step at a time.

            It was near 2 am when she was done. Her room felt much, much more like a bedroom and not a hotel room. She had strung white Christmas lights up around the edge of her ceiling, their clean light making the room appear warmer than it did with the other lights on. A few empty picture frames sat stacked on top of her dresser; she would develop the pictures to put in them later. Her picture with Steve, however, was freshly framed and sat on her bedside table. A few of her other trinkets had found their way onto various surfaces alongside a couple of candles she had bought. She felt a touch of pride at the fact that their scents matched.

            It would never be as cozy as Clark and Lois’s room, but she wasn’t as cozy of a person as either one of them. She was okay with that.

            And neither was Bruce. She pushed the thought of sharing more intimate spaces out of her mind; she didn’t even know if they could make things work out. She resolved to talk to him about it as soon as she got the chance.

            Diana crawled into bed feeling much better than she had the night before, despite the fear niggling in the back of her mind that she couldn’t fix herself.

 

            Bruce pushed himself out of bed, feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all. Truthfully, the sleep he had managed was light and interrupted. He knew it was a combination of his concussion and the bracelets shining on his nightstand. He didn’t know what to do with them, so he found himself carrying them around. Their weight was somewhat comforting but also weighed him down. He wondered if that was what they did for Diana as well.

            As much as he had thought it through, it was still difficult to be at peace with the situation. His mind was constantly going in circles, though he blamed some of it on his state of mind.

            “Master Wayne?” Alfred knocked on the doorframe. “I see that you’re awake yet again.”

            “I am,” he stretched and cracked his neck. Admittedly, his forced break from being the Batman was a gift in disguise. It gave him the chance to heal. The constant bruises on his body were yellowing away and his shoulder was aching less and less.

            Alfred frowned. “Is there a reason?”

            “My head,” Bruce tugged a black shirt on and ran his fingers through his hair. “And Diana.”

            “She returned late last night,” the butler glanced at his watch. “Though I wouldn’t suggest waking her. I believe she went to sleep about two hours ago.”

            “I wasn’t planning on it,” he picked up the bracelets and brushed past his butler. “She probably won’t want to talk anyways.” It was unsettling how the metal was always warm. He didn’t know if it was magic or the strange metal they were made of.

            Truthfully, he wanted to grab both of her shoulders and shake her, to tell her to snap out of it. Even though he knew she was justified in what she did, he was still endlessly frustrated by it.

            “Is there anything you need?” Alfred followed him down the hall.

            “Coffee would be nice,” Bruce glanced back at him. “And some painkillers.”

            “Of course,” the older man turned towards the kitchen.

            Bruce found himself in the foyer staring up the stairs. Diana’s bracelets rested on an empty pedestal. The pedestal had been empty for months. He didn’t know why he kept it. A bust of his father had rested there before, only to be moved to his library.

He hadn’t meant to go to the foyer, instead intending on going to the cave and completing his suit repairs. He turned away from the spiral staircase and directed his gaze out the window. It was foggy out, turning his entire view inky black. He could see his own reflection looking back.

            “Here you go,” Alfred spoke as he walked into the foyer. “Black coffee and ibuprofen.” He offered the mug and a pair of tablets.

            “Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce took them and turned back to the window. The steam from his coffee turned the window white and blurry.

            He needed something to do. He turned away from the window and made his way downstairs. The bracelets clattered on his desk once he reached it. He had work to do.

            Bruce quickly lost track of time. He completed repairs to his suit and went on to enhancing his visual augmentation in the cowl. X-ray vision and infrared were added to his HUD by the time he was done, the lenses easily fitting into their own slots next to his eyes. Though it looked intimidating, the deep brows and angry look on the face of the cowl actually held plenty of sensors and tech.

            His work went quickly because he knew he was on limited time before his brain gave out and grew fuzzy and tired. He didn’t know how long it would take, but he knew it would eventually happen. The work was also an effective distraction, shoving Diana to the back of his mind. Her bracelets and the pile of her gear in one of his chairs faded into the background.

            Bruce was forced to stop when he could no longer clearly picture what he was trying to do. He set the cowl down and slowly stood up. His eyes were bleary and tired from the close work. A glance at the clock told him it had been nearly ten hours.

            He paused when he saw Diana’s gear. It didn’t matter. The gear could stay in his study. He left all of it where it was, including the bracelets.

            “I was beginning to wonder when you would come back,” Alfred said as he walked into the kitchen. “I’ve made lunch,” he offered a bowl of soup.

            “Thanks,” Bruce took the soup and sat down at the counter. “I finished repairing the suit and added a couple of lenses to the HUD,” he blew on a spoonful of broth. It was warm going down his throat. “It’ll be functional as soon as I am.”

            “Don’t push it,” Alfred gave him a sharp look. “Your body may be feeling better, but your brain is still recovering.”

            He took another spoon of soup and didn’t respond. He had to get back out there. It wouldn’t take long until Gotham realized the Batman had disappeared. It was so convenient that the Batman stopped fighting after Bruce Wayne was involved in a car accident. His stomach dropped at the thought of his identity being discovered.

            “I need to get back out there,” he muttered. “I can deal with a foggy head, but I need to go back.”

            The butler pursed his lips. “The more you do, the longer it takes to heal.”

            Bruce decided he would take his chances. He was going out as soon as he could. Gotham needed him back, no matter how much Alfred disapproved. Diana would never find out until after the fact, he hoped. Her opinion had such power over him.

            He finished his soup and went to his bedroom. What he wasn’t expecting was Diana standing by the balcony spinning a batarang in her fingers. She turned when he stopped in the doorway.

            “What, are you the only one allowed to hide in someone’s room until they inevitably come back?” She smiled.

            “When it’s me, yes,” he crossed his arms. “Where did you go last night?”

            “I went to Lois’s and spent some time with her,” Diana spun the batarang on one finger. “Since you and Clark are both being incredibly male.” She narrowed her eyes. “Where are you going tonight?”

            “Nowhere,” he wondered how she knew. “Is there any reason you’re here?”

            “There always is,” she caught the sharp object as if it was a toy. “What are we, Bruce? You took me out to dinner, I left, and then you kissed me and now you’re mad at me.” Her eyes were searching, reading him from across the room.

            It was the opposite of what he was expecting. She clearly knew the best way to get the truth out of him was to catch him by surprise. He could feel his ears burning as the seconds ticked on.

            “I’m not angry at you,’ he finally said. “I was frustrated, but I’m not angry, even if I don’t particularly want your armor. You do what you need to do to heal,” he clicked the door shut behind him. Diana stayed on the other side of the room. “And I’ll be here, if you’ll let me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I—I don’t really know what we are, truthfully,” he forced himself not to look away. “I want us,” he nodded, halfway to himself, “No matter what we are or what happens.” Truthfully, he had since he had discovered her.

            She set the batarang down. “Even if I can’t put myself back together?”

            “Even if you can’t put yourself back together.” Bruce felt a pang of guilt as his plans for the night returned to his mind. He was promising himself to her even though he already had plans to betray her.

            “I want that, too,” she drew closer. “Thank you,” she took his hand. “For understanding.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “I just wanted to know,” her eyes were clearer when she opened them again.

            “It needed to be discussed,” he kissed her forehead.

            He felt sick when she left. The batarang shone at him as if it was laughing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this just in: i'm trash and can't just let them be happy whoops
> 
> also sorry if this chapter is shallow and weird i'm trying to connect two plot points and this one ended up a little funky

            Diana left the room feeling as if some of the weight had been lifted from her chest. She just had to make things right with Clark. Her phone buzzed on her nightstand when she returned to her room.

            “Speak of the devil,” she murmured to herself.

            “Meet me @ China Wall @ 6?” Clark’s text read. She paused. He most likely wanted to meet her for dinner to discuss her hero status.

            She sent him a thumbs up emoji. It was their way of confirming plans or ideas. She knew things were at least halfway okay when he sent a thumbs up back.

            But his timing also worried her. He was only that spot on when he was listening, and he listened when something wasn’t right. Had she done something? Her heart sank. Had Bruce done something? He had looked unbelievably guilty when he walked in.

            She assumed she was reading into things too much. She spent the next few hours by the lake, busying her hands and mind with the potter’s clay in her hands. Diana knew she wasn’t molded of clay, but it still entertained her to no end to mold and form with it.

            Diana looked up when she heard Bruce’s footsteps behind her, crunching on the gravel. “What is this?” He sat down next to her.

            “Clay,” she pulled a piece off and put it in his hand before he could draw back. She laughed when he froze up. “Do you not like it?”

            “I don’t like the grime,” he gestured at her hands. They were covered in gray, her fresh manicure underlined by the clay stuck under her nails and around her cuticles.

            She took the clay from his hand. “Bruce Wayne doesn’t enjoy getting his hands dirty?”

            He pushed his mouth to the side as he dunked his hands in the water. “Not with clay,” he pulled his hands out and shook them dry. “Any reason why you’re out here getting your hands dirty?”

            Diana dug her thumbs into the blob of clay. “I’m meeting Clark for dinner tonight and I’m not sure why he wants to meet,” she wet her hand and added the water to the clay. Truthfully, she was beyond worried.

            “I’m sure it’s nothing horrible,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “He’s taking the time to meet you somewhere, instead of just showing up like he normally does.”

            “Maybe,” she kept her eyes on the clay. They sat like that for a while, Diana working her thoughts through the clay and Bruce watching the clouds. Eventually she stood up and lobbed the clay out into the water. It landed nearly on the other side of the lake.

            “What?” Bruce stood up.

            She shrugged. “That’s how I get rid of the clay. It’s going to dry out anyways,” she crouched to wash her hands.

            “Oh,” he looked out at where the ball of clay splashed down, then glanced at his watch. It was past 5:30. “Do you need to leave?”

            “I do,” she dried her hands on her jeans and started back towards the mansion. “Thank you for the company.” She turned away and hurried back inside. She noticed that Bruce was still outside, even after she changed and made herself presentable. Even as she pulled her Mercedes out of the garage.

            Clark beat her there, as usual. She knew he would tell her a time and show up ten minutes early to get a table and drinks ordered.

            “Hi,” she sat down across from him, the plastic booth cover crinkling underneath her.

            “Hey,” he was still in his work clothes, complete with those stupid glasses. She doubted he was fooling anyone. His messenger bag sat next to him on the booth.

            “Did you already order?” She glanced around. Clark always claimed that China Wall was the best restaurant because actual Chinese people ate there. She never had the heart to tell him that they were speaking Japanese. Why the Japanese preferred to eat at China Wall, she didn’t know. Maybe he was right.

            “Not yet,” he leaned closer. “Look, I’m sorry for the other day,” he was earnest, staring into her eyes. “I got mad and I wasn’t thinking of you,” he glanced away for a moment, a smile gracing his lips. “And Lois may or may not have let me have it.”

            Diana returned the smile. “I accept your apology,” she looked away as a waitress approached the table. “Tell Lois I appreciate it,” she winked.

            They fell into comfortable conversation while they waited for their food, Clark describing his latest story while she gave input.

            Their food, two daily specials, arrived as Diana was opening her mouth to mention Bruce. She put it off until they were finished eating. She was nervous. Clark clearly hadn’t asked her to dinner just to apologize and discuss work. His fidgeting betrayed him.

            “Is something going to happen?” She finally spoke. It had taken an Olympic effort to push the words out. “Were you listening earlier?”

            He sighed, deflating. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed. Bruce was talking to Alfred about going back before he talked to you.” Clark pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know when, but I know that the Commissioner has been trying to communicate with him. He’s not going to listen to Alfred, I know that.”

            Diana rested her chin on her hand. “He looked guilty when he saw me,” she chewed her lip. “I don’t know how to stop him. He’ll kill himself if he continues, but he’ll go crazy if he can’t go out there. He’s antsy, Clark.”

            “I know.” He sat back against the booth. “I’ll stop him if he tries, but I can’t stop him every night. And he won’t take well to it, either.”

            “He won’t,” she could only guess what lengths Bruce would go to in order to keep Clark from getting in his way. Those lengths included carrying the shard of Kryptonite she knew he kept somewhere in the mansion. “Just let him know that we’re aware,” she pushed a chopstick through her rice. “I don’t want him to do something stupid.”

            “He already is,” Clark grumbled.

            Bruce wasn’t home when Diana got back. Neither was the Batmobile. She sighed and up to her room. He would return to her eventually, and it would most likely be with apologies that he wouldn’t hold. Often she doubted if he even knew what he was apologizing for, only that he felt guilty and wanted to clear his head.

            Diana swore to herself that she would let it happen and she would help him as much as she could, but only to a certain point. The moment the Bat came between them would be the moment she stopped it. Even if it meant forcing him to stop.

           

            Bruce knew he was caught when Clark slammed into the ground in front of the Batmobile, the asphalt splintering underneath him. He was in his suit. He didn’t try to swerve around the Kryptonian, just stopped the vehicle and stepped out.

            “Kal-El,” he greeted him.

            “Batman,” he nodded back. “I see that you’re back on the job.”

            “I am,” Bruce’s HUD showed him that the deal he was targeting was about to go down. “Is there something you need?”

            Clark crossed his arms. “I’m not here to stop you,” he looked up at the cloudy sky. “You’re not going to listen to force and you’re not going to take it from me.”

            “I never have,” Bruce’s apprehension was building. It wasn’t like Clark to beat around the bush. He was always direct with him, sometimes brutally so. “What do you want?”

            “Diana knows what you’re up to. While I’d hesitate to stop you, she won’t.” The snap and furl of Clark’s cape in the wind suddenly seemed more menacing. “And we both know you can’t tell her no.”

            Bruce knew his cowl couldn’t hide the stunned look on his face. He almost wished Clark had sugarcoated it. Bruce Wayne didn’t have a sweet tooth, though.

            “This is your warning,” the Kryptonian lifted off of the ground. “I wouldn’t suggest destroying yourself or pushing Diana too far.” The threat in his voice was clear. He took off, bits of broken asphalt pinging against the Batmobile.

            The Bat lowered himself back into the vehicle and took off. He drove just a little bit slower than he had before.

            He couldn’t deny how good it felt when he threw the first punch, dropping out of the shadows in a parking garage and knocking two men onto their backs. He whipped around, ducking under a baseball bat and threw his shoulder into a third man. He grunted with the exertion; the man wasn’t a small one. None of them were, though they were in varying states of fitness.

            “It’s the Bat!” Someone else shouted. Bruce threw himself into the heavy pipes and concrete lining the ceiling when he heard the click of a gun. He wasn’t about to get shot on his first night out.

            “Where’d he go?” The men began to fan out, watching the ceiling. The three he hit tried to scuttle off into the shadows.

            Bruce switched his HUD into x-ray and looked at the surrounding vehicles. One of them held a payload with enough fentanyl to kill all of Gotham. Where was it? He switched his HUD off.

            He leapt down on the man with a gun and landed a hard kick between his shoulders. His cape billowed behind him, hiding his form from the rest of the goons. A gunshot rang out, bouncing off of his cape.

            He turned and slung a batarang, watching the sparks fly when he hit the pistol. It flew out of his hands in pieces. The surprise on his face was priceless. He was turning to take care of another man when a crowbar lashed him across the back. Bruce grabbed the crowbar and yanked hits wielder toward him, stomping him to the ground.

            He didn’t miss getting hit.

            The rest of the men were soon unconscious or trying to crawl away. He switched back into x-ray and looked around. The car he wanted was nowhere to be found.

            Bruce planted his boot firmly on the back of the nearest man, squashing him to the floor. “Where is it?” He growled. “Where are the drugs?”

            “You won’t get them,” the goon bit down on something in his mouth. The car next to them exploded, throwing Bruce across the garage and into the back windshield of a car.

            He didn’t understand what happened. He stayed there for a long moment, half inside the car and half out of it. Everything hurt when he forced himself out of the car, his ears still ringing and his mind foggy. He couldn’t even see straight.

            “Are you alright?” Alfred sounded in his ear. The butler had been mostly silent for much of the night, his disapproval radiating through the radio. “Your sensors registered something much more forceful than you should be taking.”

            “I’m fine,” his words came out wrong. He wasn’t fine, but he would make it home. He had to. “Just get the Batmobile to me,” he leaned heavily on the car next to him. “They blew up the payload.” And blew him up, too. He could feel the sting of singed skin on one side of his face.

            Why hadn’t he seen it? The car was right there and he had missed it entirely. A quick look back at the still-flaming car showed chunks of black all around. The trunk was lead-lined to prevent him from seeing inside. He wanted to kick himself.

            Alfred fell silent again. He could hear the roar of the Batmobile somewhere above him. Eventually it roared down his aisle of cars and stopped in front of him. Bruce slid into the seat and set the vehicle on autopilot. He was done for the night. His head was pounding.

            He got back to the cave and threw his cowl off. He wished he couldn’t feel the blood running from one of his ears. It was nearly dry, sticking to his skin and the inside of the cowl. Alfred took the cowl and cape from him and helped him out of the heavier parts of the suit. He forced himself up the two flights of stairs and stopped in Diana’s doorway. He sluggishly realized she had rearranged the entire room.

            “Diana?” The head of her bed was hidden behind her tall dresser and the doorway itself. Bruce stepped inside and saw her sitting up at the top of her bed. The room was mostly dark except for the cool light of string lights lining the edge of the ceiling.

            “What happened?” Her first aid kit was already out on her nightstand. She stood up and walked to him, inspecting his cheek. It was the same side that had been embedded with glass in the accident. “You’re burned,” she grabbed his chin and turned his head to see better. Her voice sounded as if it was only coming from one side of the room, instead of right in front of him. He hoped the hearing loss would fade.

            He winced when she pressed on it. “A drug dealer blew up his fentanyl stock.” She released him and pulled an alcohol swab out of the kit. The scent of it tingled in his nose as she wiped his ear clean, following the trail of blood down his neck. “Get out of the suit,” she bent down and opened her bottom drawer, pulling out a set of his clothes.

            He thought he was the prepared one. He did as he was told and let her look him over. “You’re just burned and bruised and probably concussed again,” she murmured as she rubbed a thick salve on his cheek. It wasn’t something that had come with her first aid kit. The salve had a calming scent to it, just strong enough to be there every time he inhaled. It brought out the exhaustion sitting in his bones.

            “So you’re going again?” She stepped back and wiped her hand on a piece of gauze.

            “I am,” he looked at his feet. “Gotham needs me. I left for more than a week and already stopped the largest drug deal in the city’s history.”

            “You mean it was blown up,” she watched him as she dropped the gauze into the trashcan and sat down on her bed.

He picked his cuticles. “Is there something wrong with that? It was destroyed, wasn’t it?”

“You know how I feel about it,” she sighed, her eyes falling. “You can rinse the salve off in the morning.” Her tone was dismissive.

Bruce knew what he was doing to both of them. He was destroying himself and hurting her as collateral. But he couldn’t stop himself.

He slowly nodded and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Clark’s warning echoed in his mind. He had no idea how much she would take. And he had no idea what she would do to stop him. Bruce felt an intense pang of guilt twinged with fear when the accident came to mind. She wouldn’t. But he knew she could.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another lovely author's note from me, your author!! i promise i'm trying to wind down the angst because this thing turned out so much more angsty than i intended it to!! and also this chapter does take place somewhat in the future i hope that's clear in my writing so no one is confused
> 
> thanks so much for the feedback and support!  
> love, your trash writer

“Why are we going out?” Diana looked at him from her seat. “It’s been ages.” She tried to count the weeks. The weeks had morphed into months. How long had they been going on like this? With Bruce tearing himself apart and her picking up the pieces to sew them back together.

She had found work in Gotham, spending her days as Gotham’s historian and her nights as Bruce’s comfort. They were Gotham’s power couple.

And yet they were wearing down as Bruce’s body broke and her patience thinned. She was growing tired of the constant late nights and trying to make him heal what wouldn’t heal.

Things weren’t all bad, though. Bruce had gradually warmed up to the rest of the League, even reaching a vaguely friendly position with Clark. She had found the two of them watching football or basketball together on more than one occasion. Her boyfriend would never admit it, but she got the sense that he halfway liked Clark.

“We’re going out _because_ it’s been ages,” Bruce gave her a sly smile. The faintest traces of a bruise crept above his suit collar. It would pass for a healing hickey, even though they weren’t like that. The press could think what it wanted, but she knew. She knew it wasn’t a hickey because she would never leave a mark on him, never even had the chance to. His permanent state of exhaustion made that nearly impossible. She knew it was from a bullet that would have killed him without his Kevlar suit.

“Oh,” she looked through the windshield. Though they had gone out plenty, she still couldn’t shake the memory of that night.

“Is something wrong?” He glanced at her, reaching for her hand.

She let him take it. “Just thinking,” she tucked her hair behind her ear. “My boyfriend is tearing himself apart and I’m letting him.”

Bruce’s grip on her hand faltered, then tightened. “I don’t enjoy it as much as you do, but it needs to be done.”

Diana nodded, the hair falling out from behind her ear. “Some of it. But the Batman can have standards, you know? He’s not a cop. He doesn’t have to get shot in the neck trying to stop a house robbery.”

He spluttered for a minute, looking for the right response. He wasn’t angry or upset, but he was being defensive. She knew he had a rebuttal for just about anything.

“He’s trying to do the work of an entire police department as one man.” She drew her hand back.

“ _I’m_ doing it for the good of Gotham. And could you not refer to me as two separate people?”

“You think Commissioner Gordon isn’t either? Let the police handle these things. It doesn’t have to be nightly, it doesn’t even have to be weekly. Let them deal with the smaller stuff, and the Bat can stick to the bigger investigations and enemies.” She caught her voice rising. “Think of the consequences,” her voice turned pleading.

“I can’t stop,” his voice was tired. “Gotham needs me. There’s no way around it.”

“Gods, Bruce, I don’t want you to stop everything and hang up the cape,” she looked at him. “I just want you to cut back and actually take care of yourself.”

They spent the rest of the drive in silence and they spent dinner talking about Diana Prince and Bruce Wayne. It was all a fabricated image for the paps.

He frowned when his watch beeped and shoved his hand under the table. She knew what that beep meant. Her heart sank even lower than it already was. And yet she felt anger and frustration boiling in her stomach.

He took a bite of food and winced when the watch went off again.

“Turn it off,” she murmured.

Bruce shook his head. “I…” he looked up at her, then back down at his lap. A third beep. She felt powerless as he lifted the watch to read it. His knuckles, as always, were bruised. The utensils on the table clattered as he quickly stood up, nearly knocking over his glass. “I have to go,” he didn’t look at her as he fished a handful of fifties out of his wallet and slapped them on the table.

Diana made her decision as he walked out of the restaurant and into the rain. A camera flash went off, perfectly capturing the hurt on her face.

 

Bruce knew he was crossing a line when he walked out of the restaurant. He also knew that this was exactly the kind of standard he needed to set as the Batman. Organized crime was on the rise, and the Commissioner had a trace on where a gang was heading.

The valet brought his car, only for him to pop the trunk, take out a briefcase, and wave him off again. He took off down the street, first at a brisk walk and then at a run. He stopped in an empty parking garage elevator to change, turning the fire alarm so the elevator stopped. He was glad he had designed a suit that would fit into the size of a briefcase, but the downside was a lack of protection.

He felt incredibly exposed as he left the elevator and started towards the crime scene. The gang was robbing the largest bank in Gotham and they were making quick work of it. However, he had some doubts that these were his average gangsters. Their organization and weaponry led him to believe that they were more of a military empire.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t faced before. Get in, scare the hell out of them, beat some people up, and tell Gordon the problem was solved. That was the basic formula for all of his Gotham fights, just with varying levels of difficulty.

He forced the absolute hurt and betrayal on Diana’s face out of his mind as the Batmobile pulled up next to him. He would somehow make it up to her later.

The gang was much, much bigger than he expected. He turned the corner and saw far more vehicles outside than he would have liked to. A quick radio scan revealed that they had their own radios and channels, two of which were encrypted.

Bruce grit his teeth when a pair of guards saw him. They immediately pulled the rifles off of their backs and took aim.

“Bat’s here,” one of them radioed in. He revved the engine, inching the Batmobile forward. “At first and seventeenth.”

The first gunshot bounced harmlessly off of the windshield. The next volley was near deafening. The gang had men everywhere, up in the buildings and hidden amongst the circle of vehicles. They had created a wagon circle around the bank entrance with every intention of keeping him out.

He could hear the police finally arriving, their lights illuminating the whole street and their sirens echoing off of the buildings. All of the gunfire ceased.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred broke in. “I should like to warn you of two things,” he spoke clearly. “First, they have access to an arsenal of explosives and possible EMP devices.”

“Okay,” Bruce backed the Batmobile away from the bank. An EMP would be detrimental. He had his own devices safely tucked into his belt. “What else?” In the time it took him to speak and the time it took Alfred to respond, an explosion went off underneath the Batmobile. Despite all of the bomb plating and work he put into the vehicle, it went somersaulting down the street. Bruce noticed immediately the lack of lights on in the cockpit and the silence coming from his earpiece. Whatever the explosion was, it was exactly one of the EMPs Alfred had mentioned.

He hoped part two of Alfred’s warning wasn’t a life-or-death issue.

The Batmobile scraped to a stop nearly a block down the street, resting on its nose and the top of the cockpit. Bruce had to crawl out, putting his hands in puddles and dragging his cape through them. The police were in position down the street, already setting up barricades and their own wagon circles. He doubted they could do much, not after the kind of explosion he experienced.

He selected a different approach, instead grappling to the top of a building next to him and roof hopping. The batsignal shone above his head, barely illuminating the wet ground around him. He never realized how bright it was until it was a rainy night.

Another explosion nearly caused him to slip as the building trembled. He looked down to see the police cars in flames. There wasn’t a single functioning light in sight. Whoever was in charge was a master strategist.

He took a flying leap across the street, using his cape to glide over the gap and the destroyed police cars. There were going to be casualties. The SWAT team was arriving, thankfully hiding farther down the street.

He rolled onto the rooftop across the street and found himself face to face with another gangster. The man’s face was hidden behind a ski mask, but his eyes were wide. Bruce made quick work of him, smashing the radio on his shoulder and tying him to a water pipe.

He made note of the water tank on top of the building. It would prove useful if it came down to it. He continued on, mercilessly beating each and every man on the rooftops. Eventually the police were able to advance because of it, coming from both ends of the street.

Bruce swung down into the street again, landing on top of one of the civilian vehicles trapped in the bottleneck. All of the civilians had evacuated or hidden, he hoped. It was about to get ugly. He wrapped his cape around one man below him as he kicked the other in the chest. Both hit the ground at the same time. A third and a fourth cried out in pain when they were both struck with batarangs.

He pulled out his own EMP and slid it across the ground, watching it skitter until it came to a rest underneath the circle of vehicles in front of the bank. The device went off, shutting down all of the lights on the bank and disabling each vehicle.

He had definitely underestimated his opponent. Bruce was very quickly reminded of that when a pair of prongs dug into his neck. He fell into convulsions on the ground before he could pull the taser probes out.

It took a long time for him to come back to reality. The taser wasn’t a regulation one. Not even close. He felt like he had been electrocuted. Bruce reached up with a shaking hand and yanked the probes out of his neck. The barbs stung, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. Everything felt sore and strained.

He was confused at the commotion in the circle of vehicles. He could see under them from where he was, crumpled to the ground with the asphalt digging into his cheek. He was most likely only alive because his cape covered almost his whole body. It was the one properly bulletproof piece to his suit.

“Are you good? That was one heck of a shock,” he looked over to see dark red boots next to him.

“Get out of here, Barry,” he started to push himself up. “Why are you here?”

Barry offered a hand to help him. “Because our supreme leader called and said, ‘Hey, get your butts out here, there’s crap going down.’”

“Clark?” Bruce clambered up on top of the vehicle he had landed on. He could see into the circle now. “Oh.” Wonder Woman was there, her armor glistening in the rain. Her hair was shiny and dark. She was blocking bullet after bullet with her shield and throwing entire groups of men with her whip.

It was a thing of beauty that he hadn’t had the chance to appreciate in a long time.

Barry clambered up next to him to watch. And, as he was climbing, one of the gangsters hurled a batarang at her. Diana didn’t see it coming—how could she? It was thrown from behind her—and she only felt the pain when it sunk deep into her shoulder. She faltered for a moment, her left arm going limp. It was her shield arm. In the same instant, a bullet found her right calf. She staggered, but forced herself to regain her composure.

“Come on,” he hissed, pushing Barry back to the ground. Of course he wasn’t paying attention when they needed him the most.

Bruce leapt off of the car and hurdled one of the vans between them. The gang was forming a tighter and tighter circle around her, like sharks that smelled blood in the water. And they weren’t attacking. He hurdled the hood of another truck and heard the vicious snap of another taser. Diana’s dark head fell in the middle of the circle.

He shouldn’t have crossed that line. He shouldn’t have broken her patience. He shouldn’t have let it go this long.

Bruce didn’t know how he was going to fix this.

Lightning suddenly flashed around the edge of the circle, sending men flying in an instant. Barry paused on the steps of the bank, looking at his work.

And then Victor raced in, piloting the Batmobile because _of course he was_. He used it to shove the circle of cars out of the way.

But where was Clark?

Barry used the distraction to shove another group of men away. In an instant they were skidding on the ground, holding ankles or other body parts. Bruce grabbed a pair of men by the back of their shirts and threw them to the ground. He had to get to the middle of that circle. He could still hear the crackle of the taser.

Every head snapped up at the sound of shattering glass above them. Clark flew out the window, holding the gang leader by the back of his neck.

“Game’s over,” the Kryptonian shouted. “Now get going.” The gang didn’t need to be told twice. They took off running, jumping over car hoods and tripping over themselves to get away. Except they ran straight into the arms of the cops and the SWAT team.

Bruce didn’t care about the gang anymore. He ran forward and knelt over Diana, trying to shield her from the rain with his cape. She blinked the water out of her eyes and struggled to sit up. He helped her, letting her sit up against his knee.

It wasn’t right to see her injured, the blood running pink off of her and mixing with the water on the ground. It also wasn’t right to see her disoriented and confused. He blamed the tasing as he pulled the probes out of the back of her shoulder. She let him unfasten the shield from her arm and clipped it onto his back.

“Come here,” he scooped her up into his arms and stood up. Victor was already gone. He tried his best not to jostle her. He would leave pulling the batarang out of her shoulder to Alfred. “Let’s go home,” he whispered.

He would collect the Batmobile later. For the time being, he sent Barry to steal his keys back from the valet and retrieve his Tesla while he stood with Diana just inside the bank. Barry came back and dropped the keys into his hand, then squeezed Diana’s hand.

“Good job tonight,” he smiled at both of them. “And sorry about your date,” he whispered. Diana pushed him away, a smile on her face. Bruce walked her to the car and sat her down in the passenger seat as gently as he could. He could get the blood cleaned out of the car later. She tipped her head back against the headrest and shut her eyes. He shut the door and was about to sit down in the driver’s seat when Clark drifted over from the Commissioner’s vehicle.

“They have nearly every suspect in custody,” he murmured. “Cleanup will be…rough, but they’re going to take care of it. Gordon also told me to inform you that the Batman won’t be needed for a while after this.”

Bruce nodded. “I know. I was planning on taking some time off anyways.” Planning on it as of twenty minutes ago when he saw Diana fall. He understood why she was so apprehensive about him working all the time. All it took was a wrong move and even the daughter of Zeus could fall. “Thanks,” he stuck his hand out.

Clark shook it and bent to look at Diana. “Take good care of her,” he straightened and let out a long breath. “I’ll be by later with takeout.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Because it’s tradition,” the Kryptonian tilted his head. “Did you not know?”

Bruce twisted his mouth. “Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn’t,” he shrugged. “Thanks.”

“Get going, Batman,” Clark patted him on the shoulder and turned away. He took one step, then a flying bound into the sky.

The drive home was quiet except for the sound of rain hitting the windshield and the road underneath them. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure if she was awake.

She was supposed to be the strong one, the one who wouldn’t stumble and wouldn’t fail. He blamed himself for what had happened.

It was his, and, well, Alfred’s turn to take care of her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay on this chapter!! finals week is here and i am dying but i tried super hard to give you guys a good chapter!!  
> also i have no idea what i'm doing from this point out besides more fluff because i basically completed my plot here but i have some random scenes i couldn't include that i'll probably just slap on the end or even in another story and make it part of a series but yeah this is basically the end of your suffering through my angst!! yay!!  
> thanks so much for all of the support!! i appreciate it so so so much!!

Bruce very quickly learned that he had no idea how to take care of someone else.

Alfred was waiting on them when he pulled the Tesla into the garage. “So you’ve really done it,” he gave Bruce a look as he stepped out of the car. “You made her put the armor back on _and_ you hit her with a batarang.”

“That was not me,” he tugged his cowl off as he walked around the front of the car and opened Diana’s door. “That was someone else with my batarang.”

“I see,” the butler opened the garage door for him as he lifted Diana out of the car. She had been in and out of consciousness ever since he had gotten to her. He frowned for a moment at the blood staining the white seat of the car, then kicked the door shut. It didn’t matter.

Bruce followed him to the makeshift med bay and set her down on the bed while Alfred gathered the supplies he would need. Thankfully, she wasn’t awake.

He found himself feeling very unhelpful once Alfred started tending to Diana.

“This isn’t serrated, is it?” Alfred glanced at him.

“No, but—“ The butler pulled the batarang out of her shoulder and pressed gauze to the wound. “Okay,” he took the bloody weapon from the older man and dropped it into the sink. He tried to be useful as Alfred cleaned her wounds, but realized he was getting in the way.

“Go get out of that,” Alfred gestured at his suit. “And make somewhere comfortable.”

Bruce opened and shut his mouth. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew the butler would call for him if Diana needed anything. He did as he was told and went upstairs to change and figure out where would be the best place for ‘comfortable.’

He had no idea. Bruce wriggled out of the suit—he needed to make the things more flexible—and abandoned it in the laundry chute. He doubted he’d be using any of his suits for a while. He made a face when he saw the blood on his neck and wiped it off with a washcloth.

He tugged on a pair of sweats and a long sleeve shirt and then stopped, staring at his bedroom. Would Diana want to be in her own room? He pulled back the covers on the bed and frowned. Would she care? He reached to fluff the pillows against the headrest. He had never been great at making things welcoming.

Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin when his balcony door slid open. “What the hell, Clark?” He threw the pillow he was holding on the floor. “Why are you just walking into my house?”

“You never cared about it before,” the Kryptonian plopped a bag of takeout down on the drawers at the foot of the bed. “Besides—you never saw me out here, so I thought I would let myself in.”

“What the hell,” Bruce repeated, bending to pick up the pillow. He tossed it onto the bed and crossed his arms.

“What are you doing?” Clark looked around the room.

“Making things comfortable for Diana,” he watched the reporter walk over and open his dresser. “And watching a god amongst men steal money out of my own bedroom.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “You’ve been paying for this takeout for months.”

“I know,” he slowly relaxed and took the plastic bag.

“And you don’t know what you’re doing,” Clark opened another drawer and pulled out a set of his clothing. “Diana’s not going to spend all night in her armor,” he explained. “She’s going to be thirsty, too, so you should probably go get some water.” The Kryptonian shut the balcony door and reached for the thermostat. “Does she like it cold or warm?”

“Warm,” Bruce pulled a bottle of water out of the mini fridge beneath his nightstand. He felt the sudden rush of wind as Clark disappeared and almost instantly reappeared with a candle in each hand.

“No,” Bruce tried to take the candles from him. “This is not—no.” He felt his ears burning.

“She likes candles,” Clark looked momentarily offended. “I’m not trying to set you two up for whatever it is you think I am,” he set the candles on the dresser and lit them with a flash of heat. “Alfred’s almost done,” he walked towards the balcony door. “Just be nice to her.”

“I—thanks,” Bruce started towards the opposite door. “I’ll try.”

Clark gave him a lazy salute as he walked back towards the cave.

 

            Diana woke up in the med bay, the stark white room feeling as if it was too much for her tired eyes. She squinted until they could adjust and saw Alfred near her feet. He was wrapping her calf in gauze. She could see a crumpled bullet casing in a tray next to her leg. Bruce walked in a moment later.

            “You’re awake,” he stopped at her side. She could see two dark spots of blood just above the old bruise on his neck.

            “I am,” she felt as if she had been run over by a train.

            “You’re all done, Miss Prince,” Alfred straightened up and took the gauze and tray off of the bed. “Depending on your rate of recovery, you should be walking in the next few days.”

            “Thank you,” she gave him a smile that she knew was more like a grimace.

            Bruce scooped her up with a hand under her knees and the other behind her back. She couldn’t help but notice how touchy he was when his hand brushed the gauze wrapping her leg. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.

            “I don’t need to be carried,” she murmured as soon as they were out of the medical bay.

            “You just had a bullet taken out of your leg,” Bruce’s tone didn’t allow for argument.

            She argued anyways, for the sake of riling him up. “I am an Amazon warrior. I can take care of myself.”

            “Well, Princess of Themyscira and daughter of Hippolyta and Zeus, I’m taking care of you instead.” He still wasn’t going to argue with her, but she caught the slightest bit of humor in his voice. He nudged his door open and walked her into the bathroom. “And you’re also still a bloody mess.”

            He sat her down on the edge of the tub and wet a clean washcloth under the faucet behind her. Diana let him wipe off the blood that had dried down her arm and on her foot. He was gentle, which was something rare on him. Truthfully, the entire night was something rare on him. And on her, she supposed.

            He tossed the washcloth into the tub once he was done and disappeared into his bedroom for a moment. She didn’t miss the candles on his dresser or the smell of takeout. And yet he seemed to be completely lost. He brought her a folded pile of clothes and set them down next to her.

            “Put these on,” he straightened up. “You don’t need to be in your armor all night.” He paused for an awkward moment, then walked out again and shut the door behind him.

            Diana wouldn’t tell him, but she was already able to limp around. Putting weight on her injured leg was painful, but she knew she could get around if she absolutely needed to. She worked her way out of her armor and into his clothes. They were just the right kind of big and smelled like he did.

            Her armor clanked in the tub with the washcloth. She could clean it later.

            Bruce walked back in and helped her to his bed. He took an extra pillow and used it to prop her leg up. He still seemed lost and uncomfortable.

            “Here,” he handed her a bottle of water and the bag of takeout. “Do you need any ice?” He scratched the back of his neck.

            “I’m fine,” she cracked the seal on the bottle and took a drink, then patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”

            “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” He started towards the other side of the bed. “I can get it if you need it.” His nervousness was half endearing and half annoying. Mostly endearing, she guessed. He was trying.

            “I need you to sit down and stop stressing,” she gave him a pointed look.

            Bruce finally relented and scooted to sit next to her. “I’m not stressing,” he took one of the takeout containers out as she turned the TV on.

            “You are,” she found an old martial arts movie and let it play in the background. “Why?”

            He sighed, squirming a little. She didn’t know if it was to get comfortable or because he was uncomfortable. “Because I’m not good at this,” he waved his fork in the air.

            “What is ‘this?’” She imitated his gesture. “Taking care of someone?”

            He sighed and tipped his head back. “I guess,” he paused, his eyes searching the ceiling. “All of it. Being a person outside of being Batman and a billionaire. Carrying an actual relationship. Taking care of someone else.” Out of everything he could be, Bruce Wayne was truly insecure and shy at heart. She knew that somewhere in him was a small, affection-starved child who just wished he could have his parents back.

            Diana leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped one hand around the crook of his elbow. “None of us are good at being people. Most of us aren’t even good at being human.” She closed her eyes. She couldn’t fix that part of him; couldn’t fix any part of him. But she could help him fix himself.

            “I’m human and I have a hard time being human,” she could hear a smile in his voice. His mood was fading. He slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hand flinching away when he touched bandages.

            They sat like that for a while, Bruce eating out of the container in his lap. Neither one of them was really watching the movie, both lost in thought. Diana didn’t know where they were going from here. She didn’t know if he was going to slow down or not, if he was going to listen or not.

            Bruce reached to the opposite nightstand and set his now-empty container down. Diana realized she had barely touched hers. She wasn’t hungry.

            “Diana,” he had lapsed back into one of his moods. “I need to apologize.” He bent his head to look at her. “For the past few months.” She met his gaze. “I shouldn’t have put you through that and I should have listened to what I needed and what you needed.” His tone was serious, but he didn’t seem to be beating himself up like he normally would. “I’m going to slow down and take some time off from working,” he gathered her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. “I promise I’ll make it right and actually be here.” Diana swung her legs to rest across his lap. He made a disapproving noise when she pulled her injured leg off of the pillow it was resting on, but didn’t stop her.

            That was where they were going. And, despite the ache in her bones and the pain in her limbs, she was comfortable and at peace. She knew that Bruce was getting there too.

            “I still want us,” Bruce whispered.

            Diana nodded, pressing her face into the side of his neck. “I know,” she murmured. “I do too.” She couldn’t help but notice how different things had become since the first time he said that.

            Another long moment of quiet fell over them before Bruce abruptly straightened up. “You need to rest,” he said, slowly extricating himself. “We both do.”

            She realized how close she was to dozing off. She scooted farther down the bed to lay down as he got up to clean up their food and blow out the candles. His bed was impossibly comfortable, but she couldn’t tell if it was because she was exhausted or because it actually was that comfortable. She didn’t care to think about it.

 

            Diana was nearly asleep by the time he came back to the bedroom, her hair a dark and tangled halo around her head. She looked peaceful wrapped in his clothes and gray sheets.

            Bruce slid into bed next to her and drew closer when she rolled over, draping a hand over his waist. It wasn’t unusual for them to share a bed, but they rarely actually slept together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. He kissed the top of her head and slowly ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the little shiver that ran down her spine.

He knew they had a long way to go, but he was going to go as far as he needed to.

Bruce woke up before she did in the morning. Diana was half-sprawled across the bed, her legs tangled in the sheets and her hair tousled and finally completely dry. His amusement was mixed with some confusion—she never slept like that. He felt a poke of guilt when he realized she might not have slept before.

He slid out of bed as quietly and gently as possible and walked into the bathroom. He was incredibly sore, his neck cracking when he rolled it. Diana’s armor was still in the bathtub, spattered with dark red. Bruce brushed his teeth and put his hair into some kind of order, then pulled the armor out of the tub. It needed a wash, but he wasn’t about to wake her up by running the tub.

He padded out of his room and into the kitchen. Alfred was sitting at the counter, mid-sip of coffee. “Ah, you’re awake,” he looked mildly surprised. “How is Diana?”

“She’s asleep,” he put Diana’s armor in the sink and started running some lukewarm water. At least he knew how to do something.

The butler nodded and walked to the coffee pot. “And you?”

“Sore,” Bruce grabbed a rough scrubber and tested it on a spot of dried blood. “Thanks,” he said as Alfred poured another mug of coffee and set it on the counter next to him.

He worked his way through the mug of coffee and the grime on the armor until it was clean, then left it in the sink to dry.

Diana was waking up when he returned, his fingertips slightly pruny from the water and the front of his shirt spotted with it. She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, the dark waves piling on top of her head. Her eyes followed him as he took the dirty towels and washcloths out of the bathroom and walked them to the laundry chute. Gray light poured in through the balcony doors. It was a chilly, overcast day already.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he walked back in. Diana had already rolled up the leg of his sweats and was picking at the surgical tape holding her bandages in place.

“Better,” she was distracted with what she was doing. She was often absentminded and easily distracted in the mornings, he noticed. Whether she was reading or sculpting or pulling bandages off of her leg before they needed to be.

“Should you be taking those off?” He sat down at her feet.

She shrugged one shoulder and finally got the bandage off. The stitches underneath were nearly closed, both on the entry wound and the incision Alfred made to remove the bullet casing.

“Oh,” he took the bandages from her and tossed them into the trash. “How is your shoulder?”

“I haven’t looked yet,” she flexed her foot, rolling it around in circles to stretch her calf. The movement was stiff, but she had full control. Diana turned so that he could reach her shoulder.

“Do you heal fast enough?” Bruce said as he unwrapped her shoulder. The stitches there were also healing incredibly fast.

“No,” she smiled at him, craning her neck to see. “How did you miss?” She looked up at him, her smile fading.

Bruce blinked. “What do you mean?” He threw those bandages out too. What did she mean? He hadn’t missed anything.

“The batarang,” her voice was lower, more gentle.

He tossed the bandages towards the trash, frowning. They bounced off the side of the trashcan. “I didn’t miss,” he got up and put them in the can. “I don’t understand.”

“How did a batarang end up in my shoulder?”

Bruce shook his head, realizing what she was talking about. “I threw a couple at some gang members before you came,” he pursed his lips. “I’m assuming one of them pulled his out and threw it at you.”

“Oh,” she nodded and scooted off of the bed to stand. He held a hand out for support, but she waved it away.

“Should you be walking?” He glanced down at her leg. She wasn’t putting her full weight on it.

“I can walk, Bruce,” she looked at him. “You don’t need to worry so much.”

Bruce twisted his mouth and continued to watch. “I don’t want you to push it too far.”

“Welcome to my world,” she started towards the bathroom, a still-sharp limp in her gait. Her words stung, but he knew she meant well. He started making the bed as the door closed behind her. A question burned inn the back of his mind, but he wasn’t about to ask her.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked when she returned and picked up a pillow off of the floor. “You’re limping.” Her hair was tamed, lying in lazy waves on her shoulders and running down her back.

“Bruce,” she handed him the pillow.

“I’m serious,” he tossed it to the head of the bed.

“I’m serious,” she copied his tone.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he straightened one corner of the comforter.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I—“ she cut him off by grabbing his face in both hands and pressing her lips to his. Bruce froze for a moment, causing her to pull back.

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

Bruce grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, bending to kiss her again. It was so, so good to kiss her without the tension between them, to kiss her like he meant it.

And she knew it too, one hand curling into his hair and the other resting on his chest.

Even though they were both bruised and beaten, Bruce felt more whole than he had in a long time.


	9. Alternates and Extras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the last chapter of little things i didn't include in the final draft!! enjoy!! i even included a little epilogue at the end for all of you lovelies!!

**CHAPTER 1 – Partly thrown out and partly put into another scene (see I wanted to include this but then that takes all the fun out of it)**

 

            He only made it through one episode of Cops before he fell asleep, slouching against the pillows behind him. She couldn’t help but notice the lack of tension in his face. It pushed the years back and brought out a little bit of his forced Billionaire face.

            Diana quietly gathered their leftovers and slipped out of the room, finding her way down to the kitchen. The light from the fridge was just a little too bright for just a moment as she put away the containers, and then she was standing up and shutting the door. She heard the quiet stick and unstick of Bruce’s bare feet on the tiles before she saw him. He already naturally blended into the dark and the glare from the fridge light didn’t help.

            “Is there something you need?” Diana fully straightened and put one hand on the counter behind her.

            “There is,” he moved a step closer. “But I don’t know if I can have it.”

            Diana tightened her grip on the counter as he moved into a streak of dim light. His eyes glittered hungrily in the shadows. He wasn’t predatory like the Bat, but she still felt a chill run down her spine. She relished it.

            “It’s your house,” she waved her free hand in the air. “Everything in it is yours.”

            “Not everything,” he continued to come closer, his height realizing itself the closer he got. He was practically standing over her. “Not you,” he breathed.

            Diana tipped her head to the side when he lowered his head, lips brushing below her ear. “I can be,” she whispered.

            Bruce drew back and kissed her, pushing her back against the counter. He was hungry, his hands searching and his lips needy. She was reminded of who he actually was; a little boy left in an alley, an affection-starved child beneath the layers of years and scars slathered on.

 

**CHAPTER 3: Accident – Entirely thrown out**

 

            Diana saw the accident coming long before Bruce did, but she didn’t want to believe it was happening. They slammed to a stop, Bruce’s side of the car crumpled in like paper. Diana tore her seatbelt off, expecting him to do the same. He was moving, wasn’t he? She looked at him as she kicked the windshield out. Bruce was moving, but it wasn’t the kind of moving she wanted to see. He was convulsing, his head pressed back against the headrest and his body jerking. Concussive convulsions came to mind, but she didn’t know where she had learned the term.

            “Bruce,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder. Blood was running down his cheek, trailing down his neck and staining the collar of his shirt. “Bruce, wake up,” she fought the urge to cough in the smoke billowing from the front of the car.

            “He won’t be doing that for a long time, missy,” Diana looked up to see a man standing on top of the car. “Neither will you, if you don’t get out of here.” He had a shotgun in his hands. She could block bullets, but not buckshot.

            She launched herself out of the car, taking the man with her.

 

**CHAPTER 3: Post-accident – Entirely thrown out (I heavily considered this to be the main plot device, but decided against it)**

 

            Bruce awoke in the med bay to the sound of the nightly news. Or was it the morning news? He didn’t know. A clear, strong-voiced anchor was speaking, but his brain wasn’t putting the words together.

            “You’re awake,” Diana spoke from somewhere to his left. The TV fell silent.

            He cracked his eyes open and saw that the lights were low. The TV still hurt his eyes, the little mute symbol bouncing in one corner. His eyes were too bleary to read the headlines.

            “Don’t worry about that right now,” Diana took his hand. “That’s something to be dealt with later.”

            “Saying that makes me worry more,” Bruce looked over at her anyways. “What happened?”

            “A car accident,” she was still in her evening dress, he noticed. The sleeves were rolled up and the maroon fabric was stained darker red in places. The skirt was ripped up the sides and her feet were bare. “Some men targeted you.”

            “What happened?” He repeated, nodding at her. Her hair was wild and stuck to her cheeks and neck in places and her makeup was blurred.

            Diana sighed, looking away from him. “I did what was necessary to defend you,” her eyes found the TV. “And I lost control in the process.”

            Bruce’s eyes were finally able to focus on the TV.

            “Seventeen dead in an attack on Bruce Wayne,” the headline read. It flicked to another line. “Is Bruce Wayne the Batman?”

            How had they learned?

            “Turn it off,” he rasped. Diana clicked the TV off and set the remote down next to him. Her face was hidden behind a curtain of hair, her head turned away from him. “Look at me,” he squeezed her hand.

            He couldn’t be angry with her, couldn’t reject her. He needed her, and abandoning her based on his own rules wasn’t going to keep her around.

            “I don’t care what you did,” he whispered. “I don’t care.”

            She looked up at him. “You should.” Her voice was firm.

            “I don’t. I care about how we’re getting through this.”

 

**CHAPTER 3: Ending – Thrown out even though I really wanted to include it, but I just couldn’t make myself because I’m a huge mess and put you guys through enough suffering (as you can see I had a midlife crisis during chapter 3)**

 

            Her room appeared almost as she had left it. Minus Bruce reclining on her bed.

            “Don’t,” he growled when she reached for the lightswitch. “What were you doing?” His voice was full of gravel. She wasn’t sure if she was dealing with Bruce or the Bat. The frigid chill in his tone suggested the latter.

            “Attending to business in Themyscira,” she lied as he stood up from the bed. “After Steppenwolf stole and killed a number of warriors, we had to hold special ceremonies and elections.”

            “Bullshit,” Bruce rasped, moving to stand over her. “You and I both know that you can never go back to Themyscira. What were you doing?”

            Diana instinctively took a step back. She knew he was using his size and his Bat persona to intimidate her. “I was in Paris,” she admitted, unable to hold his stare. She could barely even see his eyes, hidden in deep shadow under his brow.

            “Why?” His voice softened just a touch and he stepped back.

            “Hiding,” Diana crossed her arms, hugging herself. She wasn’t going to open up to him, not when he was like this. She could smell alcohol on him, she thought. A bad idea with a concussion.

            “Hiding from what?” He snapped, the ferocity back in his voice. He had decided force was the path to take, apparently. “Hiding from the men you killed?” His hand found her arm, digging his fingers in. It didn’t hurt, couldn’t hurt her, but she understood the message.

            She shoved him off with one hand firmly planted in his chest. “Get out,” she whispered, using the new space between them to get out of the corner he had backed her into.

            Bruce’s lip curled for a moment, then he turned away and stalked out.

            “Welcome back,” Diana mumbled to herself.

 

**CHAPTER 5: Shopping mall (I just didn’t think that this fit with the story but here’s some extra little fluff anyways)**

 

            “Don’t look now,” Lois murmured as they sifted through a table full of leggings. “But Barry is here and he’s watching us.”

            “What?” Diana straightened to look at a rack of sweaters, scanning the store as casually as she could. Sure enough, Barry was standing in the middle of the room looking about as awkward and out of place as he could.

            “I’m talking to him,” Lois walked over. “Barry? What are you doing here?”

            “Oh—I’m, uh, you know, just shopping around,” he bumped into the rack of bath bombs and perfumes behind him, nearly knocking a candle to the floor. He caught it before it left the shelf.

            “We’re in the middle of Victoria’s Secret and Pink,” Diana joined the two of them. “Why are you here?”

            “I’m not allowed to say that,” Barry looked between them, his eyes wide with fear. He looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Diana wondered how long she would have to stare at him before he cracked. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.” He gasped for air that he hadn’t been holding. “Bruce and Clark sent me to spy on you because Bruce is being jealous and pouty and Clark is being nosy,” he breathed.

            Diana took him by the arm and led him out of the store, stopping in the walkway outside. Lois dropped her basket of clothes and lingerie in an employee’s arms and followed them.

            “Bruce and Clark?” Diana asked. Why were they together?

            “And Victor, but Victor’s just there because Bruce offered to let him watch the Packers game,” Barry shrugged. “Why? Is something weird about that?”

            “Well, yeah,” Lois rolled her eyes. “Bruce is weird about Clark and anything that involves making friends.”

            “Oh,” Barry swallowed. “Well, they sent me to come and follow you, so I’d better get back to following. Bruce will get mad if I don’t report back every half hour.”

            Diana paused, twisting her mouth. “What’s your payment?”

            “Staying on the Justice League and three Meat Lovers’ pizzas,” he smiled sheepishly.

            “Barry, he can’t just kick you off the Justice League,” Lois sighed.

            “We’re offering time at the mall with friends and four Meat Lovers’ pizzas.” Diana arched an eyebrow, watching the conflict on his face grow.

            “But Bruce will be mad,” he finally whispered. “I don’t want him mad at me. He’ll, like, show up in the middle of the night with his whole Bat thing on and be like,” he lowered his voice into a gravely rasp, “‘You didn’t spy on my girlfriend-not-girlfriend like I told you to, and for that you must suffer in the name of justice,’” his impression was on point. Lois snorted.

            “You’re talking to his girlfriend-not-girlfriend right now,” Diana pointed at her chest. “He’s not going to be mad either way, if he’s asking you to come spy on us at the mall. He’s doing it to see how gullible you are.”

            “Wait, this was a test?” Barry whined as Lois walked back into the store to buy her clothes.

            “No, this isn’t a test,” Diana sighed. “This is Bruce pulling your leg.” Barry’s eyes were wide. “Are you coming with us or not?”

            He paused, looking at his shoes. “I’m coming with you,” he finally looked back up at her. “Can we go get those pizzas soon? I’ve been following you since you got here and that’s, like, a really long time since I ate last.”

            It turned out that Barry had a very strong sense of style, just not the money to fund it. He chattered away with them, clearly glad for the chance to talk about life and not be worried about what he said. At the same time he pointed out the best color of scarf for Lois’s hair and the best shade of red for Diana’s lipstick, all while carrying a box of pizza through a Macy’s and not getting in trouble for it.

 

**CHAPTER 6: Confrontation - altered**

 

            Bruce knew he was caught when Clark slammed into the asphalt in front of him, splintering it into shards. He yanked the Batmobile around, narrowly avoiding a storefront on his right and a Kryptonian on his left.

            Clark only grabbed the spoiler on the back of the Batmobile and held him still. Bruce let off the gas and opened the top hatch.

            “What do you want?” he snapped.

            “I’m stopping you,” Clark shrugged. “You wouldn’t want Diana to find out what you’re doing, would you? Because if you won’t listen to me, I know you’ll listen to her. You can’t be back at this so soon.”

            “I can, and I am,” Bruce snarled. “I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

            “That’s no way to live,” Clark sill released the spoiler.

            The Bat plonked back down into his seat and took off, tires screeching. And yet Clark beat him to the punch. The bank robbery he was en route to was already broken up when he got there, with each criminal sitting on the curb.

            Bruce cursed and slapped the steering wheel before taking off to the next location. But Barry was already there, having “pushed some people around” and stopped a drug deal before it could happen.

            He realized how difficult this was going to become.

 

**CHAPTER 7: Diana’s confrontation – thrown out (I thought it would be so much better to have her come and save the day instead of continue this strange little funk they have going on, so this never made it)**

 

            Bruce didn’t know what hit him. One moment he was dealing with some gangster, the next he was on the ground with Diana standing over him. Her face was dark and one foot was planted on his chest.

            “It’s time to go home,” she murmured, one hand flashing up to block a bullet. The gangsters fled the premises pretty quickly after that.

            “Let me go,” Bruce protested, fighting to sit up. She let him, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She was in full armor, her hair tucked back by her headband. And her expression was furious. “I have to get to the First Bank building downtown,” he stood and dusted himself off. “I’m sorry, but I have to. This gang is planning a full takedown.”

            “You’re coming home,” she grabbed his forearm, her grip tighter than she had ever used on him before. He realized just how much stronger she was. She just hid it. “I’ve already taken care of the bank robbery.”

            “You what?” He tried to pull his hand free. He didn’t want it to happen like this.

She didn’t even budge. “I stopped the robbery. Come on.” She took one step, wrapped an arm around his chest, then a bound into the sky.

Diana dumped him in the Batcave and tugged the cowl off of his head. “You have gone too far, Bruce Wayne,” her voice was cold and her gaze was hard. “It’s me or the Bat.”

Bruce paused, staring at her from his seat on the floor. He snapped his mouth shut with a click.

 

**EXTRA: Overtime (This one wasn’t included because there simply wasn’t a place for it!! I so wish I could have! It’s also one of the first scenes I wrote for this story, so characters are going to be a little flat.)**

 

            As usual, Diana had her nose in a book while Clark clattered away on his laptop. His notes were strewn in a semicircle on the floor around him. Lois was there too, her papers in an orderly pile next to her on Diana’s bed while she scrawled on a notepad.

            “Oh, hey,” Lois looked up at him. “Do we have…” She looked over at Clark. He typed for a couple more seconds, then pulled a drink carrier and paper bag out of nowhere. “We picked up breakfast for you.”

            “What is this, study group?” He took the offering and stood there, awkwardly hovering in the center of the room.

            Clark threw a pencil at him. “This is pretending to work for a living.”

            “Perry has been brutal lately,” Diana sounded as begrudging as if she worked under the man. “What, with the end of the world and all.”

            Bruce opened the bag and pulled out a doughnut. “So why here?”

            “Because we like to intrude in your space,” Clark leaned forward to grab a sheet of notes.

            His girlfriend—fiancée?—kicked him in the shoulder. “Be nice,” she chastised him. “We’re here because Diana likes the company and she thinks you need more friends.”

            Diana’s book slapped shut and she plopped down on her butt from where she was floating.

            “I see that,” he took a bit of his doughnut. “If this is how you make friends,” he waved the donut at the three of them.

            “They say that spending time together is how you do it,” Lois was distracted again.

            “I’ll join,” he set his coffee on the dresser and left the room. Bruce returned with his newest project and settled on the floor.

            At first it was a little too quiet, with Lois and Kent exchanging glances and Diana pretending to read. Gradually they eased up, Diana lapsing back into her book and the two reporters going back to work.

            “Why would the police not check his backyard until three years after his daughter’s disappearance?” Lois suddenly blurted, tossing the notebook onto the bed in front of her. “That should have been the first place they checked!”

            Bruce looked up. Diana and Clark were both ignoring it.

            “Maybe he had a good alibi,” Clark finally mumbled, his fingers still dancing over his keyboard.

            “If that’s the Harrison murder case you’re talking about, they didn’t check because they didn’t know that the father had a backyard,” Bruce spoke up.

            Three heads snapped over to look at him, Lois looking particularly interested. “This is the Harrison murder. How did they not know he had a backyard?”

            “Mr. Harrison had a summer home,” he shrugged, ducking his head to look back down at his work.

            Lois bit her lip and picked a sheet of notes out of her stack of papers. “That makes really good sense, actually,” she nodded. The other two looked back at their work and they fell back into a comfortable silence.

            Bruce had no idea if they were actually growing any closer, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the company. And he couldn’t deny that he appreciated Diana’s interest in his social life.

 

**EXTRA: super extra that should probably be another story, but why not? This kind of happened after I finished the story and still had feelings about Bruce and Diana and wished I could get them out but didn’t want to start a whole other story for it and stress about the little things : >**

 

            “So, why are we going for a walk here instead of on your property?” Diana gestured at the open park around them. Much like New York City, Gotham had its own “Central Park.” While the park was often a place to be avoided at night, it was gorgeous in the daylight, even more so with a blanket of snow covering everything and dusting the evergreens.

            “Because I wanted a change of scenery,” Bruce took her hand as they walked around the edge of a pond. He could see a koi fish circling underneath the frozen surface. He hoped she couldn’t feel how hot and sticky his hand was, even though they were both wearing gloves.

            Diana rolled her eyes, ignoring the stares of another couple walking by. She was well accustomed to the life of a celebrity by that point—anyone who spent a lot of time with Bruce Wayne had to be. It didn’t help that she was Wonder Woman, either. She had fully stepped into the spotlight over the past two years, wearing her mantle proudly. He was glad he had confronted her about it while Steppenwolf was trying to take over the world.

            “Really, Bruce,” she stopped, turning to face him and taking his other hand. “What are we here for? You never want to come here.” As always, she saw straight through him. And as always, her beauty was distracting. Her nose and cheeks were a healthy pink, her long lashes nearly dusting her cheekbones. Her dark hair stood out in a stark contrast against the snow, with a few stray flakes resting on her hair like stars in the night. He wanted to cringe at his comparison, but it was all that fit.

            God—no, _gods_ , Diana would always correct him—he was nervous. She could probably see that, too.

            “We’re here to enjoy the scenery,” he nodded over her shoulder at the open park. “There’s not open space like this near home.” Bruce stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned his feet back towards the path. A little black box felt like it was burning its way through his coat and into his side. It would have burned straight through any other man’s wallet, he knew that.

            Diana looked like she wanted to ask more questions but didn’t. They walked in silence for a few minutes, Bruce guiding them towards a copse of trees on the other side of the pond.

            “You know that I love you, right?” He took her hand again and glanced down at her. “As long as I live?” They were both fully aware that she would outlive him by centuries. He was okay with it.

            “Of course I do,” she smiled, her cheeks turning just a little more pink. “And I will continue to love you beyond your time,” she slowed down, her steps more deliberate. “Is there a reason for this?”

            “You know that there always is,” he was the one to stop this time. “You are my forever, Diana,” Bruce watched a smile break on her face, half tentative and half eager. “I want to…” he paused to take a stilling breath. Why the hell was he nervous? “I want to make the most of what I have with you,” he carefully knelt down, his knee crunching in the snow as he pulled the little black box out of his pocket. “I want you to marry me,” Bruce watched her smile widen. He knew the ring he was holding out shone like the snow around them, if not brighter. He had made sure it was the perfect one, just the right mix of elegance and modernity for her.

            “Yes, Bruce,” Diana pulled him up. “Now get out of the snow,” she closed her hand around his and the box, standing on her toes to kiss him.


End file.
